A Life in Shadow
by ArgonianLick
Summary: When tragedy plunges Veria into sorrow, she abandons her only family to wander Skyrim in self-exile. Little by little, she struggles to find new strength in the arms of a new family.
1. Chapter 1

The following is a continuation of _The Argonian Slave_, but it is** not** neccessary to read _The Argonian Slave_ before reading _A Life in Shadow._

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><p>The shores of the Rift were shrouded in midnight fog, and the moons and stars above burned with silent fury. It was colder here than it had any right to be, being so far south. But the wind of the mountains found refuge here, as did the hearts of men drawn to the ill side of life. Riften was the only proper city in the Rift. It was a nest of rats, ever shrouded in fog from Lake Henrich and teeming with the worst kinds of men. Only criminals had business there. Any who visited pass through quickly, hopefully with most of their gold still in their pockets.<p>

It was when darkness fell that the unsavory did their work, sneaking about the city while the inhabitants slept. There were few out this particular night. At most there was a poor soul or two out searching for a stash of skooma, a poisonous substance that bound a man to its consumption. Few were able to resist its pull after a single taste.

This night an unexpected company went unnoticed by the scuffling addicts and the few disinterested guards that wandered the docks at this late hour. The wooden doors that closed off the inner city canal opened just enough to permit passage to a small boat and its passengers. Three youths sat toward the front, looking eagerly out upon the waters ahead while a black robed woman reclined at the stern, her arm draped across the back gunwale. Though the vessel was guided by no discernible means, it nonetheless moved deliberately through the water, parting the fog and raising nary a ripple with its passing. The fog was a fortunate occurrence. It rose well above the vessel and its passengers, cloaking their departure. Not a soul would know they had departed from the city.

From the prow, a curious sight was spotted. One of the young passengers threw their hand forward and whispered earnestly. The woman at the stern shifted her attention to the shore, saying something to her young charges. Then her head tilted slightly, as though someone unseen had whispered in her ear, after which the boat changed course toward a small rocky outcrop on the beach and the alien shadow crumpled amidst the broken rocks.

Barely recognizable as human beneath layers of dirt and river brine, was a Nord woman. Her leather armor was battered and repaired haphazardly in several places. Her reddish brown hair was matted and tangled with mud, and her face suffered a small red gash across her cheek. A dark bruise spread from her temple to her cheekbone, sending ripples of purple down her neck. Her limbs were bent and heavy, twisted in the jutting stones that had plucked her from the waves as they receded, all of her beauty masked by the aftermath of some stroke of misfortune.

It was obvious she didn't choose to lay here. The lapping of the waves against her knees stirred no response. Her mind was lost, buried deep beneath the cold waves and spinning madly with visions of the past she tried so hard to forget. It had been almost two years, but his face still haunted her, even in her dreams.

She was prepared to die and, in the shadow of her unconsciousness, she made no effort to wake. She simply waited for the Void to take her back to Sithis, if he even wanted her anymore. But her time was not yet done. The boat drew near to kiss the beach beside the dying woman. At a spoken word, the curious youths kept their seats as the robed woman stepped out upon the shore.

She approached the broken woman, ascending from sand to stone leaving all the trace of a shadow, and knelt beside her. After a moment's examination the robed woman reached out, sweeping aside several strands of muddied hair from Nord's face. There was a whispered question from the boat, to which she responded softly, "No. She will not see the Void tonight."  
>Placing a hand upon the Nord's forehead, the robed woman brought forth a golden light that fell upon the broken one, invigorating her body and drawing her back from the brink of death. But only just. The robed woman nodded in satisfaction as the Nord's her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths that promised she would see the coming day.<p>

Then the robed woman leaned forward until they were only inches apart and whispered, "Hear me. Your life is not over yet. There is work to be done. Find your strength and mend yourself. Then we will meet again, Veria." And before she retreated back to the boat, she placed a kiss above Veria's right eye.

When Veria woke, there was only the light of the stars to greet her.

* * *

><p><strong>1 Year, 8 Months Ago<strong>

* * *

><p>"No, no, no, no," Babette slapped the Nightshade from Veria's hand. "Don't add that yet! Do you want to poison us both? You have to grind the Deathbell seeds clockwise for <em>at least<em> three more minutes..." She demonstrated this with her mortar and pestle, and Veria carefully copied the movements. Babette was a skilled alchemist. This was no surprise, as she had over three hundred years of practice. When Veria first met her, she could tell Babette wasn't an ordinary child. She had the body of a girl no older than ten, but the way she spoke and carried herself was a testament to her true age.

One day, Veria worked up the courage to ask, "Babette, don't you ever wish you could have the body of an adult, rather than a child?" Her response began with a dark and unsettling giggle.  
>"I used to," she said. "But looking like a child has been quite useful to me. I'm never perceived as a threat. This makes hunting quite...interesting."<br>Babette found a home in the Dark Brotherhood years before Veria was brought to them. For a while she was wary of Veria, as she was with all outsiders. When Babette realized Veria truly held none of the prejudices of the common Tamriel mortal, and when she saw her own bloodlust reflected in Veria's eyes, Babette was proud to call her a friend. Consequently, the prices of her alchemy lessons were at last reasonable.

The potion they were making was a poison that put the drinker to sleep for several hours before finally killing them. The recipe was slightly more complicated than usual, and Veria was having trouble mustering the patience for it. She usually preferred to buy her potions rather than make them herself, but alchemy skills could be quite useful to her in the field, so she bit her lip and continued grinding.

"Is Tulian still out on a contract?" Babette asked.  
>Veria nodded and said, "Yes, but he should be back sometime soon. Markarth isn't far."<br>"Markarth again?" Babette raised an eyebrow. "Hmm...A lot of contracts there these days, it seems. Relatively speaking. Who is it this time?"  
>Veria shrugged. "Some nobleman, I think. Whoever it is, Tulian won't linger. Unlike you and I, he's quite efficient."<br>Babette chuckled. "Doesn't like to play with his prey. Never has."  
>Veria smiled and refocused on her mortar and pestle.<p>

About half an hour later, they both had vials filled with reddish liquid and capped neatly with bits of cork. Babette plucked Veria's from the table and opened it. She took a drop on her finger and tasted it, spitting it immediately onto the floor. She held the vial up to the light and considered it a moment more.  
>"Hmm...Add a pinch more of Deathbell seed next time and it'll be perfect."<br>Veria nodded and scribbled a note into a small journal she kept to keep track of the things she learned from Babette.

"If you'll excuse me," Babette said with a yawn. "I feel the sun will be rising soon. I'd like to take a rest."  
>"Of course," Veria rose and headed for the exit. "Sleep well, Babette."<br>Babette nodded headed the opposite direction. Her bed wasn't far from the alchemy table.

Veria made her way through the dim caves, descending carved steps and running her hand along the cold stone walls. She emerged into the main cavern and was greeted by a wash of warm candlelight, and the gentle roaring of a waterfall. The main cavern was vast, and many of her brothers and sisters spent their free time here. In one corner was a waterfall streaming in from some underground creek and pooling into a small pond. Above it hung a seal of Sithis, made from stained glass that glimmered red and gold in the candlelight. It was the mark of the dread father, the one that watched their work and embraced the souls they sent to him.

Veria was heading for training area to work on her marksmanship when she noticed two fellow assassins entering the cavern from the cave that led to the entrance. A Nord woman and an Argonian were discussing something as they walked. Astrid, the woman, was no doubt pestering him about taking so much time on his contract. As the leader of the Dark Brotherhood, it was her business to keep contracts running efficiently, and she couldn't have contractors thinking the Brotherhood was dwindling. They were dwindling, but that was beside the point. If people knew, it would be bad for business.  
>At the sight of them, Veria smiled and hurried toward them.<br>"Tulian!" she said, wrapping her arms around her beloved. Tulian smiled and returned the embrace. His scales were cool against her skin, and even after almost two years together Veria never tired of the sensation. Astrid excused herself as they shared a passionate kiss. When they got started there was no interrupting them. She would continue her conversation with Tulian some other time.

It must have been the small hours of the morning, but Veria didn't feel sleepy. She wrapped her arms around Tulian's waist and pressed into him. They both knew what was coming. The bedrooms didn't offer as much privacy as one would hope, but there was a perfectly good dungeon in the Sanctuary that no one saw fit to fill with prisoners in quite some time.

* * *

><p>Veria shuffled down the road. Every moment was agony, and every step threatened to fail and send her sprawling across the beaten road. The sun had not yet risen, and the mist from Lake Henrich so choked the road that Veria didn't see the Riften gate until she was a mere five strides from it. The guards that stood on either side of heavy doors saw the broken woman approaching, and considered her for a moment. She was covered in mud and her legs wobbled, threatening to give way. One hand clutched her side, as if trying to hold her torso together, while the other dangled beside her. Her face was cast downward, devoid of life. She wasn't a threat in the least, and certainly not strong enough to resist a shakedown.<p>

"Halt!" the guard said as she neared. She stopped, but did not look up. "You don't look so good, friend. Pay the toll, say...100 coins, and you can get your wounds tended to-"  
>Veria seized the guard by the front of his tunic and pulled him toward her. She stared into the holes of his helmet, forcing him to stare back. Her eyes were a void, set ablaze by fury. The strength of her grip was shocking, considering the state she was in. She was so fast that the other guard barely had time to react. By the time he drew his weapon, she was already speaking.<br>Her voice so much more terrifying than it had any right to be, coming from such a beautiful face. "Don't screw with me," she said. "Or I'll feed your eyes to the skeevers in the Ratway."

Under his helmet, the guard was sweating. He gulped, desperately hoping she couldn't see the terror in his eyes. "There's no need for that," he said, composing himself. "I didn't realize you've been to Riften before-" Veria threw him back to his place beside the door and pushed on. "Welcome to Riften," the guard said hastily, mostly out of habit. She left the guards behind and shuffled her way into the city.

Her legs could go no further, and buckled beneath her. She shot out a hand to stop herself from falling onto her face, but the edges of her vision darkened. She tried to stand, but only found the ground coming closer. Her face made contact with the cold, wet stone, and everything went dark.

* * *

><p>Veria's whine echoed through the caves. Her arms were drawn up above her and secured tightly with leather strips around her wrists. The iron bars of the cage pressed into the skin of her back with every movement. Tulian's chest pressed against her breasts, and his tongue danced around her ear. With every push her blood was set ablaze. Heat, intoxicating in it's intensity, spread from a spark beneath her stomach to the tip of her tongue. Veria felt him inside her, his scales rubbing against her skin like tiny river stones. They scratched her, they dominated her. They satisfied a hunger in the pit of her stomach that never truly went away.<p>

Even before she was of age, when she lived with her father in Windhelm, the hunger was always there. She used to satisfy it in secret, with men both single and married. It used to be her prime concern, hunting them down, seducing them, and finding another, all without getting caught. It was fun for a long time until she met Tulian. In him she found more pleasure than any of the weathered Nords of Windhelm. She also found solace in his arms, contentment that always eluded her before she met him. He helped her realize her love of domination, of taking life, and brought her to the Dark Brotherhood.  
>Veria was happy. She wanted to spend the rest of her days in the Brotherhood, with Tulian.<p>

Veria's toes curled around the iron lattice of the cage. Their movement slowed, and Veria sighed heavily. "Tulian," she sighed. He replied with a kiss, and she returned it. His reptilian tongue danced in her mouth, and laughed internally. They're mouths were so asynchronous, it was a miracle they could kiss at all.  
>Finally, Tulian untied her wrists and took her in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder. Her mind wandered, and she thought of the beautiful stained glass effigy of Sithis they had in the Sanctuary.<p>

"Tulian?" She said.  
>"Yes?"<br>"Do you remember when I told you about my dream? The one that Sithis sent me?"  
>"Ah, yes," he said, looking back. "That wasn't long after we met. Sithis blessed you with that vision, and brought you home to me." His arms drew her closer and he sighed. Veria knew the memory wasn't all good for him. Even if he gained a lover, he lost a friend that day. "Why do you bring that up now?" He asked.<br>"I was just wondering..." she paused, and he waited patiently. "To set me on the right path, you arranged for me to kill your friend."  
>"He was your captor," Tulian reminded her. "Sithis wanted him dead."<p>

"I know," Veria replied. "I wanted him dead, too. More than anything. But he was your only friend outside the Brotherhood. You _must_ resent me for killing him."  
>"No, my love," Tulian turned her face so he could look into her eyes. "He was my only remaining tie to the world outside the Brotherhood. I was weak to hold onto his friendship. I was away from the Brotherhood for many years while I helped him. Sithis wanted me back. He wanted you in his family. Killing Bedrel was the only course of action to be taken. You are a blessing, my love. I don't resent you for a thing." He brought his lips down to hers again, and they shared another passionate kiss.<br>"I love you, Tulian," she said.  
>"I love you, Veria."<p>

* * *

><p>Veria was itching for a new contract. She spent the day with Tulian, and with his blessing went to Nazir for a new job. He was a Redguard, and chose to wear the traditional clothing of his homeland instead of the Dark Brotherhood armor. He was sarcastic sometimes, but he always had some remark about a job that made Veria smile.<br>"Veria," he said as she approached. "It's about time you came looking for work. I have a contract for you."  
>"Don't think I'm getting lazy, Nazir," she said with a playful punch at his shoulder. "I just wanted to see Tulian first."<br>He grunted and handed her the written contract. "Not the most glamorous of contracts, but I think you'll like it."

Veria opened the contract and skimmed Nazir's rough handwriting. "Ah," she said. "Solitude. I haven't been there in a while. Not many people there would contact us."  
>"You should go soon. Shouldn't keep our contractors waiting."<br>Veria pocketed the contract and took a moment to gather supplies. She donned her Brotherhood armor and weapons, some food for the road, and gave Tulian a goodbye kiss.

And then she was off Solitude on what was to be quite an enjoyable job.

* * *

><p>This introduction to Life in Shadow was written by ArgonianLick with help from LadyDragon1316. Check out her story, <em>The Wolf of Cyrodiil.<em> This story will hopefully lead into her next installment of _The Wolf of Cyrodiil_, **_The Lady of the Isles_**.

This story will be a little different from _Argonian Slave_, focusing more on Veria's journey as a character rather than romantic encounters, although romance will still play a part. Thank you for reading _A Life in Shadow_. More chapters to come.


	2. Chapter 2

The carriage was hardly full. Not many people traveled the roads these days. The driver urged the horse forward slow and steady on the uneven road. Veria sat patiently in the back. Her Dark Brotherhood armor was concealed by a long cloak that she had drawn up tightly around her body. She kept her head low to prevent the wind from disturbing the fur-trimmed hood. Without looking up, she could tell they were passing through the Reach. The road had become rough, and frequently rose and fell with the uneven terrain.

The carriage driver stopped by Markarth, where he picked up two more passengers bound for Solitude. Veria glanced quickly up at them as they took a seat across from her. It was a Nord couple, dressed for travel in cloaks with no hoods and a small satchel of coin tied to the man's belt. They weren't wealthy, not enough to own their own carriage at least, but they looked well-off enough to afford taking a trip to Solitude. Shopkeepers or owners of an inn, Veria guessed. When they sat down, the woman offered Veria a polite smile and nodded her head in silent greeting. Veria returned the gesture and maintained the silence. From what little conversation they made, Veria discerned they were on their way to visit a friend who's husband had taken ill.

They spoke less and less as they drew closer to Solitude, and while Veria didn't mind listening to the idle chatter of common folk, she was thankful for the silence. The sounds of road, of the forests and mountain air, were soothing. She let her mind go still, and remained in meditation until the carriage came to a halt.  
>"Here we are, ladies and gentlemen," the driver said. "Watch your step as you go. The road up to the city gate is rather steep."<br>Veria stepped down and inhaled deeply. She stood tall and erect, her shoulders back and face tilted downward slightly. Her cloak cascaded down from her shoulders in a straight line. She was like a shadow, floating over the ground, noticed by almost no one. She released her breath and started up the road.

The contract said her contact would be waiting in the Winking Skeever. It was a man by the name of Rudnar. He had no residence in Solitude, according to what information Veria was given about him. He had been renting out a room at the inn for a few weeks now.  
>When she entered the city, Veria took no time to admire it. It was a beautiful city indeed, especially in the starlight. But the darkness wouldn't last forever, and Veria was eager for a fresh kill. She went straight to the Winking Skeever.<p>

As she entered, the inn owner looked up from his work cleaning the counter and greeted her.  
>"Welcome to the Winking Skeever, friend!" he said. As she approached him, he continued. "We have warm beds and warm food. What will it be?"<br>The man had a genuine smile on his face. He seemed truly happy for Veria's visit. He would likely have been happy if anyone had walked through his door, but Veria couldn't help but be flattered all the same. This was not the time to be sultry, though, so she kept it to herself. As an agent of the Brotherhood, she maintained a shaded exterior, and did not yield to her desire to smile back at him.

Quietly enough so she might not be overheard, she asked, "I seek a man called Rudnar."  
>His warm and welcoming presence fractured slightly at her tone. It was always amusing to see men intimidated by her. "Ah yes," He said. "Rudnar. Good patron, that man. Keeps mostly to himself, but a decent enough fellow. He's been here for a few weeks now. As long as he keeps paying, he's welcome to stay longer. His room is on the second floor, directly across from the stairs."<br>Veria turned and headed towards the stairs, but the innkeeper stopped her and asked, "You won't be causing any trouble now, will you?"  
>She turned and watched him fall silent at the sight of the void in her eyes. When she answered, she did so quietly, but with an innocence that he could not deny. "Of course not," she said. "Rudnar has been waiting for me."<p>

The innkeeper nodded and and returned to cleaning the counter. He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. The door to the room was shut, but unlocked. She pushed her way into the room like a snake into a rabbit's den. She was as silent as a whisper, and she closed the door behind her just as quietly. None of the patrons of the inn were aware that anyone had entered the room, but the man inside was already awake, waiting for her.

He sat in a chair in the corner opposite the bed. A single candle illuminated his form. He must have been at least fifteen years older than Veria, but she could detect strong arms beneath his simple commoner's clothing. His face was weathered, but had not yet started to wither with the passing of years. His beard was cropped short and sported a deep black color with flecks of gray near the roots. A thin scar traveled from the corner of his left eye to the depths on the hair on his jaw. This man had seen battles. What was he doing here, living out of a tavern?  
>"Is... is it you?" He said. "You've come to hear my contract?"<br>Veria nodded once and stepped forward. "What is it you ask of the Dark Brotherhood?" she said.  
>"I want you to kill someone for me, obviously. As you can probably tell, I've seen a lot of the battlefield. Just a few years ago I was serving in the Imperial army. I was...relieved of duty rather suddenly. But when I returned home I found my wife had...died. She had fallen ill and had no one to take care of her. It wasn't until later that I found out she was poisoned by a man named Balfun. He fled and attempted to allude me. He changed his name and made a new life for himself. Somehow got his hands on a house by the Blue Palace." His eyes darkened and fury pierced his tone. "I want you to sneak into that house and kill him. Make it painful, if you can. I want him to suffer."<p>

Veria nodded. "Which house?"  
>"It's Proudspire Manor, next to the Bard's College." He took out a coin purse and handed it to Veria. "400 coins," he said. "I'll give you the rest once the job is done."<p>

Without another word, Veria pocketed the gold and left the man to stew in his own vengeance. Such contracts were common. Hate made people turn to even the most taboo of things.

* * *

><p>With dawn hours away, Veria wasted no time in honing in on her target. She shed her cloak and stashed it in a bush of Nightshade. It would only get in her way. Proudspire Manor was easy enough to find, and with no shortage of back alleys and shadowy corners, Veria had no trouble becoming invisible. Patrolling guardsmen were easy enough to sneak by. Getting into Proudspire would be another matter. She found a back door, locked of course.<p>

Child's play, she thought, pulling out her lock picks. As she pulled and prodded inside the mechanism she recalled the first time Tulian taught her to pick locks. She picked it up quickly and practiced constantly when he brought her to the Brotherhood. She had long since mastered the craft, and had the door to Proudspire Manor open in a matter of seconds.

She slipped inside and dissolved into the darkness. There were no candles to light the room, and as Veria's eyes adjusted to the darkness she noticed something amiss. The place smelled musty and stagnant, like no one had lived in it for a long time. In the gloom she could see dust floating in the air. A man was supposed to be living here? Squinting, she could make out a faint orange glow cascading down the stairs. Someone had a candle lit upstairs. It was likely the man hadn't had the time to furnish the place yet, or the funds.

She climbed the stairs, careful not to let them squeak under her weight. She crept into the room, finding it almost bare save for a clean table and a man. The table held a plate of bread and cheese along with a single candle. The man sat facing away from Veria, hunched over like he was reading a book in the candlelight. She unsheathed her dagger and approached him, a target already in her sights. Slitting his throat would be slow, like Rudnar wanted, but also be quiet enough not to attract attention.

When Veria was but a breath away from him, she struck. In one swift movement, she rose, gathered the man's scalp in her fist and yanked his head backward. She brought the dagger to his throat, and stopped. The man's eyes gazed up at her, veiled with mist. He was cold, and had likely been dead for many hours.  
>"What in Obliv-"<br>_Thwap_

Veria lurched forward, catching herself on the table. An arrow had been buried into the leather armor between her shoulders. Thankfully, her armor was thick and only the very tip of the arrow found its way through. At most it merely scraped at her skin.  
>She righted herself and spun around. At the top of the stairs was the shape of a woman with a hunting bow in her hand. She was slight, with the build of a ranger. No match for one skilled in closer combat.<p>

Veria dislodged the arrow in her back and lunged forward, dagger in hand, but was stopped mid-stride when a large hand suddenly enveloped her face. She was thrown backward into the ground. When she regained her senses, she saw a large, muscular man standing over her. His foot pressed heavily into her shoulder. She tried to stab his thigh with her dagger, but he swatted it away like one does with a fly. It clattered to the corner of the room, and Veria was left defenseless.

She struggled beneath the man's weight, but it was like trying to move a mountain.  
>"Don't struggle," he said in a voice like tumbling boulders. "You'll only make things worse for yourself." As he spoke, the woman walked to the windowsill and lit a candle that stood there. As the warm glow cast itself across the room, Veria got a better look at her assailants.<p>

The woman had fair skin and a rounded Breton face. The man that stood over her was an Orc. His grayish green skin was pulled snugly around firm, toned muscles. A war hammer hung across his back. He would have no trouble snapping Vera's neck if she attacked him.  
>The sound of creaking on the steps caused the Orc to glance away. In this moment Veria made a grab for a dagger that hung from his belt, but she underestimated just how fast he was.<br>He grabbed her wrist with one hand and struck her head with the other.

Veria's mind was blurred and the room spun. In frustration, the Orc lifted her by the neck of her armor and pulled his fist back for another punch.  
>"Stop," came a voice from the stairs.<br>Through black, clouded vision Veria squinted to see who it was. The Orc very suddenly dropped her, and she crumpled against the floor. She slowly pushed herself into a sitting position, shaking her head to clear the fog. Blinking, the candlelit room came back into focus, and she saw who the third person was.

"Rudnar," she said. He glanced at her, but she said nothing more.  
>He looked back to his comrades. "Perhaps you two should wait downstairs," he said. "I'd like a moment with our friend here."<br>The orc tried to protest, but was silenced with a steely look from Rudnar. Without another word he and the woman left, and Rudnar stood alone in front of Veria.

He had replaced his common clothing with a worn but well-polished set of steel armor. Veria cursed herself for not seeing through his facade in the tavern. She stood, and he waited patiently.  
>"You've made a grave mistake, Rudnar," she said. "Is that even your name?"<br>"It is," he nodded. "You may call me that if you wish,"  
>"I will call you nothing, because that is what you will be." She crossed her arms and let the shadows fall across her shoulders. "You have threatened the Dark Brotherhood. This is not a thing we take lightly."<p>

"You're unarmed," Rudnar said. "I stand between you and the only exit. I'm strong enough to break your bones in my hands." He took three steps toward her, but she stood her ground. "You should be more worried about yourself right now." He continued toward her, but she didn't even twitch. When he stood close enough to feel his breath on her forehead, she asked, "What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me where your family is hiding."  
>Veria laughed. "Hiding?" she said. "The Dark Brotherhood doesn't hide. We look out from every shadow, and listen for the Sacrament."<br>Rudnar gripped Veria's forearm and yanked her sideways. When her leg flared out to keep her balance, he landed a solid kick just above her knee. There was sickening _crack_, and she collapsed which a shriek.  
>He kept hold of her arm and let her gasp for a moment before yanking her back upright. She nearly fell, but his hands gripped her shoulders like iron, keeping her up.<br>Veria's heart pumped blood through her veins at ten times the normal rate. Her leg felt like it was ablaze, and she clenched her teeth to keep from whimpering.

"That wasn't an answer," Rudnar said. "One more time, my dear. Where is the Dark Brotherhood hiding?"  
>Veria's lip curled, revealing her clenched teeth. He'd keep this up as long as he had to, she knew it. But it didn't matter how much pain he'd inflict on her. She'd never betray her family. At least, she hoped not.<br>"Where?" he asked again, this time with a growl and a violent shake.  
>"Rot in Oblivion," Veria answered.<p>

Rudnar threw her across the room. She collided with the wall and fell limp in the far corner of the room. There was a window on the wall above her. An escape route, potentially, but only if she could get a few free moments. Rudnar was already standing over her.  
>"I hate this part of my job," he said. "It would be so much easier for everyone if you would just cooperate." He squatted down and angled her chin so that he could look at her face. "Tell me where they are."<br>Veria buried any emotion that tried to bubble its way into her voice, and she banished all fear from her face. "No," she said simply. It was no surprise to her that this earned her back handed strike across the mouth. It wouldn't have been so bad if he wasn't wearing gauntlets.

"Maybe we should start with something a little simpler," he said calmly. "Tell me your name. Where are you from?"  
>"Are you trying to torture me or sleep with me?" Veria said through waves of pain.<br>"Just your name, then."  
>With her broken lip conveniently filling her mouth with blood, she saw no better opportunity than that moment to spit on his face. Rudnar flinched and stood, wiping the red of the bridge of his nose. He stomped firmly into her side, and she felt one of her ribs fracture.<p>

Veria choked out a cry of pain, and she clenched her fists in an attempt to contain it. She spit another mouthful of blood onto the floor and said, "Careful. Can't answer your questions if I pass out."  
>"We have all night," he grumbled. His voice was venomous, in an attempt to scare her, no doubt. But she could detect frustration in his tone as well, and fought the urge to smile.<p>

Suddenly a shout came from the bottom of the stairs. It was the orc. "Rudnar!" he yelled. "We have a problem!"  
>Rudnar quickly turned and shouted down the stairs, "What is it?"<br>Before he finished the question, Veria was already halfway out the window. When he saw her escaping and sprinted to catch her, it was already too late. She fell to a balcony, too close to the edge. With her good leg she tried to slow her falling speed on the railing before plummeting past it to the ground. It was impossible to contain a small yell of pain when she collided with the dirt. The wind was knocked right out of her, but she had no time to regain her breath.

Veria forced herself up and hobbled as fast as she could down the road. The window had dropped her into the alley behind the house. This was good. No guards to get in her way. However, there were also very few escape routes, and she had no time. The mercenaries were no doubt on their way, and Veria could barely walk properly. Her only hope was that whatever problem they had would delay them just enough to let her slip away.

There was not a moment to waste. Veria sprinted, as much as she could with a broken leg, to the next house over and slipped into the courtyard. She dove into the hedges and made her way for the street. When Rudnar and his company came running down the street in pursuit, Veria had already slipped into the sewer hole in the middle of the road. She replaced it neatly over her head, and she felt Rudnar's boots tread over it, unaware. It was like she was never there at all.


	3. Chapter 3

The waterways beneath Solitude weren't hard to navigate. The layout of the city was simple enough, and since the main pipe ran beneath the central road Veria could easily guess what buildings stood above her. Actually pulling herself through the sewers was the hard part. She stuffed her own hand into her mouth to muffle her cries of pain. Every step threatened to send her blubbering into the rancid waters that rose to her waist. Even the current that tore the waters past her threatened to whisk her away.

She pushed her way to the edge of the city where she knew the waters would drain into the ocean. She couldn't simply ride the current and let it drop her into the salty waters. With a broken leg, there was no way she'd be able to swim to shore. Instead, she kept her footing in the narrow pipes and fought to stay standing as she hobbled forward. She knew she was getting near when the water level began to decrease, and the darkness in the pipe started to lighten. She could see the exit ahead.

Veria dug her heel into the floor of the pipe and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the orifice. She carefully eased herself out into the early morning air and onto the narrow stone edge that ran below the drain. She descended slowly, nearly slipping several times on the putrid waters that covered the cliff face. The sky was already pale yellow with the rising of the sun, and she was only on the edge of the city. Rudnar and his mercenaries were sure to come looking for her in this area. She had to get to a safe place to treat her leg, and fast.

She landed in the salty mud by the shoreline and began limping as fast as she could toward the marshes east of Solitude. The water was shallow along the giant stone arch that supported the Blue Palace and noble homes, and wherever the water was too deep she could swim well enough with one leg to get to the next shallow area. Low and slow she went, keeping her splashes quiet and hiding behind anything she could. The road wasn't far, and anyone walking down it could spot her if they were looking in the right direction. Fortunately, the layer of grime she accumulated in the waterways served as an effective camouflage in the murky waters.

There was an old shack in the marshes that the Dark Brotherhood kept hidden for whatever they might need it for. Astrid liked to take potential recruits there on occasion. Members used it as a hideout in case they attracted some unwanted attention. Veria once used it to lure one of her targets out of the city. She had abandoned her armor for an attractive dress from Radiant Raiment and convinced the man to meet her there at midnight. "So we might get to know each other better," she had said. Of course, when he arrived, he quickly realized the shack wasn't the home of a beautiful woman and Veria killed him before he could turn away.

This time, the shack would serve as her sanctuary. The sun was high in the sky, but the mist of the marsh turned the golden light into a gray haze. She stumbled across the uneven terrain, avoiding Mudcrabs and praying to Sithis that she wouldn't find any Wisps on her way. Finally, Veria saw the shack rising out of patches of dead grass, rotting trees, and bones. She drew the key from one of her pockets and shoved her way inside, locking the door behind her. The place was empty. No assassin or even a dead body to greet her.

She went to the far side of the room and pried open a box covered in dust. There were bandages, but no potions or medicines to mend her bones. Without medicine, all she could do was set the bone. With bandages in hand she pried one of loose floorboards up and sat against the wall.  
>Veria sighed and cursed to herself, then stuffed some of the bandages into her mouth. She couldn't risk the noise reaching far out of the shack.<p>

* * *

><p>As Veezara trudged through the shallow waters of Hjallmarch he savored the sensation of water seeping into his leather boots and saturating his scales. Skyrim waters were often frigid and unfit to swim in for long, but even through the mist the high noon sun was able to warm it to a cool, comforting temperature. His target was a vampire and wouldn't emerge again until after the sun had set, so Veezara figured he'd catch a few moments of rest in the shack in the marsh.<p>

When he readied the key to unlock the door, he noticed footprints on the ground below him. He knelt down to get a closer look, and saw in the moist earth the faint impression of small footprints, along with some long marks alongside them. Someone was dragging their feet. Perhaps one of his brothers had caught a target and dragged them inside? Perhaps Astrid was testing a new recruit? Whatever the reason, it was best to be cautious.

He quietly opened the door and peered in, seeing no Astrid and no captives, but a familiar woman crumpled against the wall.  
>"Veria?" He said, rushing to her side. She was out cold, and breathing shallow breaths. Her leg was bound tight to a wooden board, and her face was turning purple with bruises in several places. "Veria. Veria!" He tried to rouse her with a gentle slap on her cheek, but she remained unconscious.<p>

From his pack Veezara drew three small potions. "You are fortunate I did not just bring poison, sister," he said. He poured the potions down her throat and slowly her breathing returned to normal. Her eyes fluttered and swiveled around the room as she tried to get her bearings. She spotted Veezara above her and tried to touch his face.  
>"Tulian?" she said. "You came?"<br>"No," he said. "It is Veezara, but Tulian would certainly have my head if I did not heal you. What happened to you?"  
>Veria tried to sit up but a shooting pain stabbed through the side of her chest. She clutched her side and let her head fall back.<br>"Rest," Veezara said. "The potions need time to settle into your system. Tell me, who did this do you?"  
>"I was an idiot," she said angrily. "The contract was fake. It was made just to draw one of us out."<br>Veezara drew a hand over his mouth and contemplated. "Who would do such a thing?" He asked.

"His name is Rudnar," Veria grunted as she tried to sit up again. She slowly worked her way into a sitting position and continued, "He had an Orc and a Breton working for him. They were mercenaries of some kind." She leaned forward and put a hand on Veezara's shoulder. "Veezara, he tried to get the Sanctuary location out of me. He's hunting our family. We have to get back home."

"Even if they find it," he replied, "no one has the power to extinguish the Brotherhood. We'll see them in Sithis' embrace before they can touch us."  
>Veria sighed and laid back down. "We should go soon," she said.<br>"I shouldn't leave a contract unfulfilled," Veezara said, scratching his chin. "Rest here, Veria. I'll be back within the hour."  
>Veria tried to protest but he was gone before she could say anything coherent. She rested her head on the damp floorboards and stared at the ceiling, wishing more than anything that Tulian was there with her.<p>

She missed him so much her chest ached, and she curled her fist around the spot in an effort to quell the pain. He was probably sitting peacefully back at the Sanctuary, missing her, and knowing nothing about what had happened to her.  
>Veria couldn't resist her fatigue, and her eyes slid closed, the image of Tulian's face still floating in her mind.<p>

* * *

><p>When Veezara finally returned, the sun had fallen below the horizon and the marshes were bathed in a rapidly darkening orange haze. The potion had finally set into Veria's bones and she could walk well enough to make it to the edge of Hjallmarch before the moons were high in the sky. When darkness came they traveled the land like shadows, rousing the attention of nothing and no one they passed by.<p>

The journey was long and Veria had to rest frequently. They didn't make it to Falkreath until late the following day. Her feet ached, her fractured rib was still sore, and her leg felt thin. She was hungry, thirsty, and so in need of her lover that when she saw the Sanctuary door in front of her, she forgot her pains and ran to it. On the stairs inside she stumbled, but Veezara caught her arm and kept her from falling. She gave a grateful nod, and he released her. They descended into their home together, and found most of their family gathered in the main chamber.

"Veezara, Veria," Astrid said, lowering a letter she'd been reading. "Welcome back. I expected you to..." she trailed off, noticing Veria's slumped posture and crooked leg. Fierce concern crossed her face. "What happened?"  
>Veria wasted no time in passing on the warning that the Brotherhood was being hunted. She recounted the important details of the past few days, and Astrid listened intently.<p>

Suddenly a voice interrupted the exchange. "Veria!" Tulian cried as he pushed his way through the gathering crowd toward her. As he neared her, any strength she had left vanished, and she let herself fall into his arms. "Babette!" he yelled. The girl pushed through the crowd and inspected Veria's injuries.  
>Veria looked up at Astrid and said, "Rudnar, he has friends. They're coming for us-"<p>

"Don't worry," Astrid put a reassuring hand on Veria's shoulder. "No one has penetrated the Sanctuary since its founding centuries ago. We'll find them, and put an end to their hunting. Babette, what's the damage?"  
>"A few broken bones. Some bad bruises. Then there's the trauma of traveling all this way with those injuries...It's nothing I can't handle. She'll be back on her feet in a day or two."<br>Astrid nodded and turned to some of the other onlookers. She began dolling out orders to secure the area around the Sanctuary and to put out feelers for the mercenaries. Veria turned her attention away from crowd and let her eyes gaze upward into Tulian's face. Seeing him there, with her head resting against his chest, she felt more at peace than she had in days. They exchanged small, relieved smiles, and Veria slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p>A full day of potions and other treatments later, Veria was laying in her bed, waiting for the strength of her legs to return. She wanted to get back to work. She wanted to track down Rudnar. Threatening her family could not go unpunished. She shifted her body on top of the sheets and wiggled her toes. "Ugh!" She grunted in frustration, covering her eyes with her arm. "In the name of the dread-father, let me get up!"<br>"Someone is restless," came a voice. Veria looked up to see Tulian entering the room. "You have no idea," Veria said. "I can't stand laying around here for much longer! Help me up."  
>Tulian offered his hand, and she took it gratefully. He helped her off the bed and steadied her as she stood. She quickly lost balance and Tulian had to catch her. Veria groaned in agitation. "Nooo," she said. "I don't want to stay in this room anymore!"<br>"Well," Tulian said. "There's no helping it then." He turned around and crouched a little. "I'll carry you out."  
>Veria took a moment to adore the absurdity of Tulian carrying her on his back before taking it up.<p>

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders to stay upright, as he rose and carried her out the door, careful not the knock her head against the door frames. He took her to the main cavern to see what everyone was up to. There were a lot of members out on contracts, but Astrid was there, as always, pouring over her maps and letters. Her husband, Arnbjorn, sharpened his axe not far away. At the sight of Tulian carrying a fully grown Nord woman on his back, Astrid merely raised an eyebrow and returned to her work.

Babette wasn't so forgiving. "Tulian!" she scolded. "Veria should be laying in bed, not playing piggyback."  
>"Oh, come on, Babette," Veria chimed from beside Tulian's face. "I've been laying there long enough!"<br>Babette sighed. "Just...sit down for a little while and you should be able to walk on your own in a few hours."  
>Veria sighed, "Fine," and Tulian walked her to the feast hall to sit a while. They had nothing better to do than sample the new barrel of mead that just came in, along with a few helpings of fresh bread.<p>

"Tulian," Veria said. "When I'm strong enough, I'm going to go looking for those mercenaries."  
>"How will you find them?"<br>"I don't know..." her hand slowly clenched into a fist on the table. Anger began to bubble up in her throat. "But I can't tolerate a threat to our family."  
>"I'd like to meet this Rudnar," Tulian said. He reached forward and touched Veria's face. "I'll make him suffer for hurting you like he did."<br>With a decisive nod, she said, "We'll find them together. You and I."

* * *

><p>A few hours later, Veria had recovered enough that she could stand and walk on her own. She couldn't stand being without her armor much longer, so she discarded the old tunic she had been wearing. She opened the chest at the foot of her bed and pulled out her Brotherhood armor. She held it in front of her for a while, looking over the little scratches and tarnished places it had acquired over time. When Veria came to the Brotherhood, it was like her life finally had meaning. She was no longer empty.<br>She had Tulian, she had a family that cared for her, and she had a purpose. Being a servant of Sithis felt natural. Taking life felt good, and she was good at it. It had been hard at first to come to terms with it. Any average person knew that killing for the sake of killing was tainted, and bad for the soul. Veria denied it for a while, but Tulian helped her see the truth. He helped her realize her true nature, and gave her home that would welcome her for it.  
>Veria loved him for that.<p>

A pair of arms appeared on either side of Veria's shoulders. She smiled as Tulian rested his scaly hands on top of hers. She was still holding her armor.  
>"Tulian," she said, leaning into him. She drank in his aroma, a subtle combination of fresh rain and river brine.<br>He rested his nose on the back of her head and responded quietly, "What is it?"  
>Veria let her hands drop and returned his embrace as best she could. "Oh... nothing in particular."<br>He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder. Veria felt his affection for her pouring from his skin and into hers, and she knew all the hardship she'd lived through had been worth it, because it led her to him.

* * *

><p>The next morning Veria donned her armor and got ready to train. She'd been inactive for far too long and was itching to get her muscles moving again. She flipped her dagger between her fingers as she headed for the main cavern. Everyone else was already up.<br>"Nazir," she called. "Where's Tulian? He's supposed to train with me today."  
>"Oh yes, he mentioned something of that sort earlier. He's just-"<p>

What remained of Nazir's sentence was drowned out by a sudden, deafening blast. Smoke poured down the corridor to the Sanctuary entrance. Veria gripped he hilt of her dagger. "W-what in Oblivion-"  
>Tulian came rolling out of the smoke. He landed on his feet just in time for a barrage of arrows to come down upon him. One hit him in the shoulder, and he was sent sprawling on his back.<br>"Tulian!" Veria cried, rushing towards him.  
>"I'm fine!" He yelled, pulling the arrow free of his leather armor with one swift tug. "The door!"<br>Tulian rolled to the side as a blade came swinging out of the smoke, just narrowly missing him. In one fluid motion, he plunged his dagger into the neck of the swordsman as he barreled out of the haze. It was a man, someone Veria didn't recognize. His armor was worn and his sword well-used. A mercenary; hired help.

Brotherhood members scrambled for their weapons as more arrows and men burst from the smoke. They were little match for Veria's brothers and sisters. One by one they were overtaken by blade, claw, and fire. The smoke began to dissipate, and Veria spotted the archer. It was the Breton woman from Solitude, and next to her the orc. Fury overtook Veria's mind. Rudnar was nowhere to be seen, but one of them could tell her what she needed.

The orc raised his war hammer and barreled into the chaos. Veria sprinted for the stairs where the Breton ranger stood. She dodged and rolled expertly around swinging swords and axes, plunging her dagger here and there as she went. Three men fell in her wake, and when the woman saw Veria speeding towards her she aimed an arrow at her forehead and let it loose.  
>But too late. Veria pitched to the side and the arrow broke against the stone floor, and then Veria was upon her.<p>

The Breton drew a knife just in time to deflect Veria's dagger, but not a second after the clang of metal came Veria's fist plummeting through the air into the side of her face. She stumbled down the stairs and began to fall, but she was limber. She tucked her slim form and flipped to land on her feet, and readied her blade. Veria lunged, but the Breton was skilled. She deflected Veria's stabs, and threw a punch. Veria dodged, but it was enough of a distraction to allow the dagger to be knocked from her hand. It clattered away, and Veria could only dodge the Breton's swipes.

Veria's unarmed skill wasn't perfect, but it was enough to deflect the Breton's blade for a while. Eventually, though, the Breton had the upper hand. Veria was knocked on her back, and the Breton stabbed the dagger down towards her neck. Veria caught her arm and fought to keep it at bay. The Breton's arm was strong, and the tip of the blade hovered inches from Veria's neck. Veria's arms burned. She couldn't hold it up much longer.  
>With one burst of strength she pushed the Breton's arm away, and gripped the top of her arm with the opposite hand. Veria pushed her and rolled to pin her to the ground. Before she could retaliate, Veria dealt a swift blow to her head, and she was out cold.<p>

Veria took the Breton's dagger and stood. When she looked up, she saw the orc plunging a sword right through Tulian's abdomen.  
>"TULIAN!" She shrieked. She began to sprint. The battle around her became a blur. The orc slid the sword out of Tulian's body, and he fell. The orc turned on Veria and swung the sword down on her. She pitched and plunged the knife into the back of his neck, and left it there. She was at Tulian's side before the orc hit the ground.<p>

"Tulian. Tulian!" Her hand hovered over his wound. It was gaping, and oozing blood. She wanted to do something, anything, but she didn't know any restoration spells. She took his face in her hands and angled it toward her. His eyes were wide, and fixed on her. "Tulian. Look at me, you're going to be fine, just-just-" His jaw moved slightly, but whatever he was trying to say was reduced to sickening gurgles as his mouth filled with blood. Veria's heart threatened to burst from her chest. She heard and saw nothing in the room. It was all a blur, reduced to a low, watery hum. Tulian raised his hand and struggled to touch her arm. She grasped it tightly, and held it close.  
>"Tulian. You're going to be okay. We'll-"<p>

His fingers loosened. "Tulian?" His eyes were dark. Veria felt panic and terror overtake her body. She gripped the sides of his face and shook him gently. "No no no no, Tulian! Tulian!" He didn't move. His eyes stared blankly, and his heart was still.  
>Tulian was dead.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Veria was trapped. Endless darkness surrounded her, and she plummeted into its depths at a terrifying speed. Screaming assaulted her senses, and she covered her ears for want of silence. _Just stop,_ she thought. _Stop_._ Make it all stop._ Her throat suddenly began to feel sore, and Veria realized that the screaming was her own.

She gasped for breath, and the world came flooding back. The main cavern of the Sanctuary was ragged, but quiet. Bodies were strewn about the cave floor. Gathered hesitantly near her were her brothers and sisters, wanting to comfort her but afraid to crowd. Tulian's body was laying at her knees.  
>"Tulian...?" her voice was hoarse. Tears clouded her sight and poured steadily down her cheeks. Inside, she felt numb, as if a void had opened up where her stomach should be and was swallowing up everything beneath her skin.<p>

Fingers delicately touched Veria's shoulder, and she looked up without thought. Astrid crouched beside her. She said nothing, and looked past her. Veria followed her gaze and saw Arnbjorn grasping the Breton by the collar of her armor. She was still unconscious, and hung limply from his grasp. Veria's face melted into fury. The void in her body filled with fire, and she started toward Arnbjorn.  
>Astrid caught her by the arm, and Veria turned a poisonous gaze on her.<br>"No, Veria," she said. "She might know something. We need to do this right." Veria's eyes didn't falter, and Astrid jerked her closer. "Listen to me, Veria," she said sternly. "You're blind right now. Let us handle this. That's an order."

Astrid dropped Veria's arm and led Arnbjorn with their prisoner to the dungeon. They had means to get the information they needed. Veria turned away. Tulian was still laying alone on the ground. Some of the Brotherhood began to drift away towards the other bodies, but Veria fell to her knees again beside Tulian. She pulled him gently towards her so his head rested on her arm. Seeing him so still felt completely wrong. Everything inside her wanted to wake him up, because he couldn't possibly be dead. But Veria knew better. She knew death better than most.  
>She drew her fingers over Tulian's eyes and closed them. Seeing him then, looking like he was asleep, almost made it worse. Veria rested her forehead against his brow, already beginning to chill.<br>Her fury faltered, and despair began to seep into her bones.

* * *

><p>Babette came and helped Veria wrap Tulian in burial cloth. They set him next to their other fallen brothers, who were thankfully few. The mercenaries didn't receive such respect, and their bodies were stripped and discarded quickly.<br>"He's with Sithis, then?" Veria said quietly as she stood with Babette in the main chamber.  
>Babette was quiet a moment, then said, "I expect so."<br>"But..." Veria trailed off. "He was...what am I supposed to do now?"  
>"Find who's responsible," Babette said decisively. "And make him suffer."<p>

Her words did not bring solace, and the emptiness in Veria's chest deepened. _And after that,_ she wondered._ What will I do then?_ She remained silent, and Babette was content to say no more.  
>Just then, Astrid emerged from one of the corridors and called to Veria. "She's awake," she said. "I thought you'd like to observe."<br>Veria didn't respond at first, but eventually followed Astrid down the corridor to the dungeons.

The Breton was strapped to the wooden frame. A table next to her held daggers, poisons, and other assorted tools. Arnbjorn stood at the entrance, his arms crossed and waiting for Astrid to return. When she entered, the Breton said, "You're going to torture me?"  
>"You've caused us quite a lot of pain, sweetheart," Astrid said, her voice like oil on an obsidian knife. "Of course we're going to torture you. But we have questions, too."<br>"...I don't know anything."  
>Astrid neared the Breton and crossed her arms behind her back. "I doubt that. How about we start with your name? Surely you know that."<p>

The woman sneered and remained silent. This was met immediately with a slap across the face. Astrid replaced her hand behind her back and said again, "Your name, sweetheart."  
>"...Elara."<br>"Nice name. How about who you're working for?"  
>Elara shifted in her bindings. "You must know that already. A man named Rudnar." Astird slapped her again.<p>

"Yes we did know that," she said. "Who hired him?"  
>Elara didn't respond, and Astrid hit her again. "Why should I tell you anything?" She said. "You're going to kill me either way!"<br>"Yes, but wouldn't you prefer to die quickly?" Astrid drew her blade and held it to Elara's neck. "I've drawn this kind of thing out for days. You _really_ think you can withstand that?" She twisted the blade, and Elara winced as a drop of blood sprouted from her skin.

Something tugged at the back of Veria's mind. Curiosity. Paranoia, perhaps. Maybe fear. Whatever it was, it issued forth a question that Veria didn't have the strength to withhold. "How did you find this place?" She said. Elara and Astrid looked at her, their moment broken.  
>"How?" Veria asked again. Astrid pressed the dagger dangerously into Elara's flesh.<p>

"We tracked you," she said. "From Solitude."  
>The hair on the back of Veria's neck stood on end. Something akin to panic dripped down her body, slowly building to roaring cascade. <em>"What?"<em> She said.  
>"We tracked you...you and the-Argonian-" Astrid twisted the knife slowly and narrowed her eyes.<br>"That's impossible!" Veria yelled. "Veezara and I were quick and careful, we were-"  
>"Difficult to track, but not impossible. It took time. We had to double back a few times but..."<p>

Veria's senses slowly slipped from the dungeon. Her mind pieced together every scrap of memory she could recover of her and Veezara's journey home. It couldn't be right. They were careful. They traveled at night, in the shadows, sometimes not even on the road. She denied it as long as she could bear, but finally in her heart she knew that in the end...  
><em>It was my fault<em>, she thought. _I led them here. I exposed us. They came here because of me...They killed Tulian... I killed Tulian..._

Veria turned her face so that Elara wouldn't see the tears sprouting out of her eyes. She covered her mouth and tried to stifle them. She couldn't stay in the dungeon.  
>Astrid glanced back and paused mid-question to see Veria's back disappearing up the stairs. She returned to Elara and continued her interrogation.<p>

* * *

><p><em>I killed Tulian... I killed Tulian... I killed Tulian...<em>

The realization was crippling. Veria's grief magnified beyond tears, and she lost entirely the will to walk, to stand, and speak. She left the dungeon, climbed the stairs to her bed, and collapsed there. The following day passed in a blur. She neither spoke nor ate, despite what her brothers and sisters said to her. Once, Astrid even tried yelling at her, but to no avail. For a short time, Veria lost the will to live, and felt content to lay still until she starved to death.  
>But slowly her sadness evolved into anger, and with every passing hour her desire to see Rudnar suffer grew.<p>

Elara did well, for a soft ranger. She withheld as much as she could for a while, but when Astrid finally killed her the next day, she had told them everything they needed. When Astrid rose from the dungeons, Veria appeared in front of her like a shadow. Her hair was unkempt, and she somehow looked paler.  
>She said simply, "Rudnar."<br>Astrid squared her shoulders. "I know where he is. Only he and a few others know our location. I'm going to send for their deaths immediately."  
>"May I kill him." It wasn't so much a question as a declaration.<p>

Astrid considered Veria for a moment. She wasn't in her right mind, but denying her this small piece of recompense might hurt her more than help her. Finally, she nodded. "He's not far. In the Sleeping Giant Inn, in Riverwood. Likely waiting for news on the raid."  
>Veria started straight for the entrance, which was already under repair by Veezara and Festus, a Brotherhood wizard. She was stopped when Astrid called out to her. "Veria," she said. "Remember your place. Make him suffer if you must, but do not endanger us by getting caught."<p>

Veria stood there, her back to Astrid, in silence for longer than Astrid expected. Finally she nodded and continued on her way. "May Sithis be with you," Astrid called, but Veria didn't reply.

* * *

><p>She felt neither the ground beneath her feet nor the bite of the midnight air as she traveled north. Veria moved like a shadow in the trees. She was swift, and every step passed over the rocks and grass like a breeze. She was in Riverwood before the moons reached their zenith, and just in time. Rudnar was descending the steps of the Sleeping Giant Inn, clad in a long brown cloak and in a hurry.<p>

Veria stalked him along the road. His movements were hurried, and frantic. It was likely he had finally realized the fate of his mercenaries, and sought to make himself scarce before someone came for him. But it was too late. Veria followed him in the shadows across the river to the mountain. It was the worst place he could be.  
>The pines that choked the road to Bleak Falls Barrow rose in the darkness like great black hands, clawing at the stars and blocking the light of the moons. Rudnar sensed danger as Veria drew closer. He paused, then drew his knife and turned. Veria knocked it away and landed a kick to his chest before he could retaliate. He roared and stumbled backward. "Who's there!?" He yelled. Veria dealt a swift blow to his head, and he was dazed. She watched his head hang and bob back and forth, then hit him again, and he was out cold.<p>

Rudnar wasn't wearing his heavy armor, likely in favor of fast travel to wherever he was headed. This was fortunate. Veria didn't have to worry about all the extra weight of it. She threw his sword and dagger in the river and stashed his travel bag in a nearby bush. Pulling Rudnar away from the road should have been near impossible for Veria, but her body was fueled by fury and her strength knew no bounds in that moment.

Veria dragged him up the seldom-trodden path to the Barrows and stopped at a secluded corner of the cliffs. She stripped him of his cloak and traveling tunic, bound his hands behind him around the trunk of a tree, and waited. She turned her knife around in her hand impatiently as he began to stir.  
>Rudnar groaned at the pain in his head. Slowly he regained his senses, and came to understand the position he was in. He tried the bindings, but they held fast. He looked up and saw Veria standing in front of him, the moonlight pouring over her form.<p>

"You," he said. His voice was laden not with fear but anger. "My men are all dead, then?"  
>"Every last one," Veria said. Her voice was a void. It slid through the air like black oil, and chilled Rudnar's spine despite his stony composure. She approached him and jabbed the tip of the dagger into the surface of his neck. "There are just some loose ends to tie up."<br>"Get it over with, then."  
>She slowly dragged the dagger over his skin, drawing a harmless, yet painful, red line over his collar bone. He winced and she said, "You're not getting off so easy, Rudnar." She flipped the hilt in her hand so the blade protruded downward from her fist. "I want you more than dead."<p>

She plunged the dagger into his leg and let him yell. He didn't bellow as much as the average prey, but he was a warrior. He could withstand much. _Good_, she thought. _He'll last a long time_.

* * *

><p>Veria descended the mountain just as the morning rays of light were poking through the trees. She began to walk, and wrapped Rudnar's cloak around her body to fend off a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air. She was more than exhausted. She felt empty. She couldn't feel her heart beating, or the pulse of her blood. Not even tears seemed to exist inside her anymore.<br>She had tortured Rudnar for hours. Horrible things were done to him by her hand, even by Brotherhood standards. Tulian was avenged. Blood paid for in blood.  
>But Veria felt nothing. <em>Why?<em> She had thought with every cut she made. "Why isn't it working?" She went on for hours, cutting deeper and waiting for something to fill her, but nothing came.

No relief, no solace, not even satisfaction. Rudnar was dead, and he had paid dearly, but it made no difference. There was a void in her chest that refused to be filled. She felt it suckle at every fiber, every hair on her body as she walked home. With every step it swallowed more of her, until finally when she stood before the broken entrance to the Falkreath Sanctuary, she was naught but an empty shell.

"Veria," she blinked. Festus stood at the door, a dusty tome in one hand and red light in the other. "Welcome back-" He stopped. Veria's cloak hung open. Her armor was caked in blood, now drying to a sickening brownish red color. "You're a mess," Festus said. "I mean...well done and all that but...clean yourself up for Sithis' sake."  
>Veria drew the cloak around her and swept by Festus without reply. "Well, nice to see you, too," he remarked sarcastically as she disappeared down the stairs.<p>

Upon entering, Veria's body was suddenly assaulted by a wave of exhaustion. Her muscles burned, and her legs buckled. She sat on her knees for a moment before rising and walking slowly across the main cavern. All she could do was wonder why her bed was so far away.  
>As she went the greetings of her brothers and sisters slid off of her without notice. They noticed her state and kept their distance. When Veria finally reached her bed she stripped off her armor and lay there in her undergarments, waiting for something.<p>

Memories came. From the sheets of her bed, from the walls, from the shadows and beyond came echoes. Tulian's voice rang in her ears. Everything he said, all they had done together, came pouring into Veria's mind with everything she saw. It all piled onto itself until is was a roar in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut and wrapped her arms around her ears. With every memory came a wave of grief so great in magnitude that it tore through her flesh like knives.

She had been through so much, endured and survived so much so that she might be with Tulian. A scar on her thigh, evidence of the pain she endured years ago, began to burn. The thought that Tulian was gone, and that their time together was over, was too much to bear. The memories assaulted her senses, taunting her with things that were and will never be again, things that could have been and will never be at all.

Veria buried herself under the blankets of her bed, and slowly she let darkness overtake her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

It was the small hours of the morning, but Astrid was very much awake. She liked to stroll about the earthen halls of the Sanctuary when everyone still slept. She felt it was her duty to keep watch over them while they rested. This was the least she could do after such a devastating breach of their defenses. These caves had always given her a sense of security; She had been convinced that it would protect them from anything. Astrid rested her hand against the cold, stone wall near the entrance and contemplated how she could have been so mistaken.

Perhaps it was time to move, she thought. The Dawnstar Sanctuary was far, and in need of heavy repairs. The Brotherhood didn't exactly have the money for it, and their connections with the Thieves Guild, the only ones they could trust to handle the repairs, had dwindled. It would take some serious preparation to even have a chance of moving. No, she decided. Any who knew the Sanctuary's location were dead, and they had further defenses on high alert should any stragglers try to hunt them out again. It would be safer to lie low, perhaps avoid any jobs for a while, until any rumor of their homestead died out. Perhaps rumor of their demise would throw off any remaining mercenaries trying to snuff them out. Astrid descended the stairs, running her hand along the wall. The others would be stirring in a few hours, and she had work to do before then.

Suddenly, she stopped. Veria stood a few steps below her, blocking the way. She was dressed in light, worn leather armor with a knapsack and travelling cloak fixed across her shoulders. Astrid waited for an explanation, but Veria pushed past her without a word.  
>"Veria," she said in a commanding tone. She didn't stop. "Veria!" Astrid grabbed her shoulder, and Veria paused obediently.<p>

Astrid toned softened slightly. "Where are you going?"  
>Veria remained silent, and for a while kept her back to Astrid. Finally when she turned, and Astrid could see the answer in her eyes.<br>"I'm going away," Veria said.  
>"Away?"<br>Veria hesitated. Her whole body felt heavy. Even speaking took a great amount of will for her. "I'm leaving, Astrid. I can't stay here anymore."  
>"Veria-"<br>"No," She turned and continued up the stairs. "It's too much..."

"Veria," Astrid tried to grab her shoulder again but she wrenched it away. "Veria...Is there nothing I can say to make you stay?"  
>"I'm sorry Astrid, but I can't be here anymore. Everywhere I look, no matter where I turn..." Veria pressed her palm into her forehead in an effort to keep her mind from spiraling. "He's everywhere. I can't see anything else... it's agony." She continued up the stairway.<p>

Astrid followed her. "This is your home," she said. "This is your family. You would abandon us, just like that?"  
>At the door, Veria stopped. She rested her hand on the newly-repaired stone and said, "I'm lost here, Astrid." She sighed. "This isn't my home anymore."<br>Without another word she pushed her way out of the Sanctuary into the gray morning, leaving Astrid alone in the shadows.

* * *

><p>Veria picked a direction and began to walk. The mist of the morning clouded the trees, and she let the chill of it seep into her skin. She had no idea where she was going, only that she had to escape this place.<p>

Even then, as she lost herself in the mists creeping along the damp earth of Falkreath, she felt his shadow following close behind. Too many times she had hunted with him in this forest; too familiar were the trees that slid past her. Every stone, leaf, and quiet stream echoed with a memory of him. His words whispered in the branches beyond her reach.

She ran. Tearing through the fog and down the road she sprinted, desperate to escape. Pain radiated through her chest. "Leave me alone," she gasped. Her mind spun with his voice, his touch. She almost felt his breath on her ear. She ran faster and pressed her palms into her ears. "Go away!" she shouted.  
>The birch trees flew past her, and she disappeared into the thickening haze, determined to lose him.<p>

* * *

><p>The roads of the Reach were jagged and rough on the frame of a wooden carriage as it rattled across the stones. The driver was seasoned, however, and a master at his profession. He expertly navigated the cracks and rifts. The sun was strong that day and managed to burn through the layer of clouds that so often covered the mountains. The carriage driver in a good mood despite the fact he had no passengers. He whistled a tune and guided the horse toward Markarth where he planned to pick up a few passengers and continue on to Solitude, as he always did.<p>

He was used to seeing travelers along the road, so he wasn't the least bit surprised when he turned a corner and nearly collided with one. He pulled his horse to halt, a little too abruptly. The horse whinnied in protest but obeyed the reins.  
>"Ho, there!" He called to the figure ahead. "Be needin' a ride to Markarth? I'll give you a good price, seein' as we're nearly there as it is."<p>

The traveler lowered her hood, revealing a head of reddish brown hair and a face that made the driver's breath catch in his throat.  
>"How does three septims sound, good man?" She said.<br>"Aye, that be plenty."

The woman climbed into the back of carriage and counted out three gold coins to the driver. When she was settled, the driver whipped the reins and the carriage was moving again.  
>"They say Markarth was built by the Dwemer," the driver said. "Can anyone believe such a tale?"<br>"It's a magnificent city," she responded. "I've never seen its equal. I don't doubt that structures of such craftsmanship were built by the dwarves of legend." The driver heard her sigh heavily and suddenly felt as if a shadow had crossed over the carriage. "I've walked very far," she said. "If you don't mind, I think I'll rest until we reach Markarth."  
>The driver cleared his throat and said, "Aye, but the road is rough. It might not give you peace enough for rest."<br>She chuckled softly, but said nothing more. When he glanced back at her a while later, she was slumped over and resting soundly despite the constant rocking of the cart.

She awoke the instant he pulled the horse to a stop. The chiseled walls of the city rose up before them, a few guards and miners wandering about, lighting torches to fend off the oncoming twilight.  
>The driver jumped from his seat and made to help his passenger off the cart, but she had already jumped down.<br>"Here we are, my lady," he said. "If you don't mind my prying, do you live here in Markarth?"

Her lips curved into a polite smile and she said, "I have no home, but Markarth will do for now."  
>"Well..." he lowered his voice slightly, "Watch yourself while you're here, my lady. The streets of this city can be treacherous."<br>She bowed her head in thanks. "You are a kind man. May fortune follow you during your travels."

With that she parted, and the driver watched her go. It wasn't often such a lovely lady graced his carriage without an escort. He tightened the reins on his horse and mildly regretted that he didn't ask her name.

* * *

><p>The sun had sunk below the walls and cast the whole city in shadow. Torches burned by every door, casting shadows that danced like demons in the dusk. Veria slumped and clutched at the acid in her chest. She fought back a cry that tried to escape her. Even here, in this city made of stone, her heart yearned for him. It was here that they laid together for the first time as siblings under Sithis. She had cast away her commoner's dress and donned a fresh set of leather armor. The same armor she wore now.<p>

She shook her head of the memories and made straight for Silver-Blood Inn, whose doors lay directly before the main gates of the city. The inn was lively, crowded with shopkeepers and craftsman who had hung up their aprons for the day and retired to a warm mug of mead.  
>Before the innkeeper could greet her she slammed twelve coins on the table.<br>"A bottle of Alto wine."  
>The innkeeper grunted and took the coins with a sweep of his arm.<p>

Bottle and goblet in hand, Veria took a seat in the corner of the inn and poured herself some wine. The goblet was drained too soon, and in only a few minutes she had consumed the whole bottle. The innkeepers wife came by with another bottle, and Veria exchanged it for another twelve septims without further conversation. The pattern continued throughout the night, but the pain in her chest was dulled only slightly.

As the sky grew darker the inn grew more lively. Men and women danced with bottles and steins in their fists. Mead splattered on the ground and laughter radiated from every corner. A bard wrestled a tune out of a lute and a few of the patrons stumbled around the inn, insisting that they were dancing.

When a stranger pulled Veria to the floor to dance she didn't resist. The wine was numbing, but she was so accustomed to its influence that she kept her wits about her. The walls of the inn spinning around her emptied her mind. The stomping of feet and plucking of strings filled her ears and drowned out any memory that came to mind.

Her gold flowed from her pockets as she filled herself and her dance partner with wine and mead. They danced and drank together without exchanging a word. He poured the wine into his belly as if he hadn't drunk a drop in his life. Veria was flush and her pockets were lightening, but she was still strong enough to pull her partner out of the inn and into the alley that ran behind it.

She cried out as the man, drunk as he had ever been, thrust into her. He pressed her into the stone wall, and she felt it dig into the flesh between her shoulders. His drunken state made him vigorous and rough, but before Veria had come to a peak he was stumbling away towards the main street.

Veria sat against the wall of the alley, half undressed and exhausted, and listened to the quiet that surrounded her. The noise of the inn was muffled and far off. The only thing she could hear was the soft crackling of torches and the wind of the mountain clawing at the stone spires. The sorrow she shed for a few hours in the inn slowly crept back into her flesh. Not willing to pull herself back into the inn to rent a bed for the night, she fell asleep outside in the frigid night.

* * *

><p>The days went on, and Veria spent them in drink and labor. Her nights were immersed in mead and wine and soon all the coin she brought with her had dwindled to a precious few septims. When she felt the need for the lull of a mug of ale she'd run an errand for the innkeeper or kill a few frostbite spiders in the mine. What little she was paid she spent back at the inn. She drank and lay with whoever sparked her interest, all in an effort to smother her grief.<p>

But the wine never quite satisfied her thirst, and she felt no desire to lay with anyone. It was the city, she thought. It held too vital of memories of Tulian. There wasn't enough to distract her, nothing to give her direction.

So after three weeks in Markarth, Veria took her few remaining septims to purchase bread, wine, and a vial of weak poison.


	6. Chapter 6

For weeks Veria carried that vial. She fingered it in her pocket, turned it over in her hands, and sometimes sat it on the table in front of her as she prepared to eat a meal. Twice she uncorked it, but closed it back up every time.

It was cheap poison, purchased the day of her departure from Markarth. It wasn't something she thought about much. It just seemed right, buying it. Something in her wanted to drink it, and something else didn't. Maybe it was a desire to live, or maybe it was her humanity desperately trying to preserve itself. Whatever it was had almost failed twice. A third time would surely be the last.

From Markarth she traveled west, eventually running into a small mining settlement. There was work there, enough to distract her and feed her for a few nights. She went north, killed a thief trying to rob her and three bandits. Just for fun she tracked down their encampment and relieved it of its tenants.

She used the gold and minor trinkets looted from the bandits' cave to purchase a night in Solitude, but couldn't bear to stay past morning. She crossed the marshes to Morthal where she spent weeks on a fishing boat. Often she had to fend off the advances of one of the crewmen but it proved amusing enough. She kept moving, never staying long in one place. Veria found occupation wherever she could to keep herself busy. She'd work herself into exhaustion and fall into dreamless sleep wherever she could rest her head.

It was on Veria's journey from Morthal to Dawnstar that she was met by an unwelcome party. A Khajiit caravan had made camp near the road. They tried to call to her and draw her to what they were selling, but she pulled her cloak tight against her body and quickly moved on. She didn't like Khajiit, having had a bad experience with one a few years back. It was Tulian who had saved her from him, and as thought of the incident came to mind her fingers danced across the glass vial in her pocket.

When she arrived in Dawnstar she immediately downed two bottles of wine at the inn, all the while turning the vial over in her hand. It was almost a comfort to have it in her hand. Suddenly she stood and left the inn. Night had fallen, and the light of the moons glimmered on the water of the bay. There was a mine in this town, she knew. Tomorrow she'd get work. The next day she'd work again. The next day she'd move on. Then work again, then move on again. Work, then move. Work, move, work move.

Slowly Veria sunk to her knees. She sat in the snow and let the cold seep into her. She felt far away, and was barely thinking as she uncorked the vial. In one unrestrained motion, she downed the contents of the vial she had carried for almost two months.  
>The liquid slid down her throat and into her stomach. Veria sat there a moment and let the reality of what she had just done sink in.<p>

Suddenly she felt dread and fear in her chest, then something like a kick in her stomach. Her midsection collapsed, and she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the ground. She spit and cleaned out her mouth with snow. Cheap poison, she thought.

Stumbling out of the snowbank where she sat, Veria's head suddenly began to spin. Dizzying sparks danced across her vision and her stomach purged itself once again. She crawled on her hands and knees to where a bush grew beside the road. There she curled into a ball and waited for the dizziness to pass.

How long she lay there she didn't know, but after a long while, she felt a hand gently tug at her arm. She let it help her to her feet, but violently shook free when she saw it belonged to a Khajiit. "Don't touch me," she said. The poison still afflicted her, and she struggled to keep balance.  
>She lurched again, and her empty stomach contracted painfully. Her mind spun, and she suddenly became entirely unsure about where she was, or how time was passing around her. Her vision blurred and black shadows danced across her eyelids.<p>

When she finally shook her head free of the specters, she found herself somewhere else entirely.

A canvas tent stretched above her, and below she lay on a woven mat of dried grasses. She smelled cooking meat and the faint scent of some unfamiliar incense. There was only one place she could be, at this realization she shot up to her feet and nearly knocked the tent askew with her head.  
>"Woah, now! My child, please rest a little longer."<br>A female Khajiit, fur as dark as wet ash, rested her hands on Veria's shoulders. Veria felt so weak she let the Khajiit push her back down the mat. She sat and clenched her fists against the ground.

"Where am I?" Veria asked.  
>"Not far from Dawnstar," the Khajiit said. Her tone was polite enough. "My brother brought you here after you collapsed."<br>Veria drew a palm over her face. "That poison was supposed to kill me. That's what I get for two septims..."

"You drink poison for yourself?" the Khajiit said. "We have fine poisons here. Ten septims. Very effective."  
>Veria slid her fingers through her hair and shook her head. "No...No I shouldn't have it."<br>"My brother and I run the finest caravan in Skyrim. Even we carry moonsugar and skooma." Veria looked up and scowled at the Khajiit. From out of her sleeve the cat drew a small pink bottle. "Very good price, just for you! Twenty septims. You be hard on gold, yes? Twenty septims-"

Veria was already pushing her way out of the tent. The Khajiit insisted she stay and rest, sample moon sugar, and share in cooked meats hunted by fresh by her brother. But Veria had had enough of her pandering, and she had no interest in being exploited by merchants of moon sugar.  
>As she exited the tent, she suddenly collided with the Khajiit she met in Dawnstar.<p>

She pushed him away and tried to continue but he stopped her.  
>"Are you leaving so soon, my lady?"<br>Veria was sick of listening to their sandy, grinding voices. She wrenched her arm away from the Khajiit. "I'm done with you, Khajiit," she spat. She headed towards the town, and the Khajiit did not follow.

She continued into the inn, purchased a room, and shut the door. As she was settling into bed she felt something hard in her pocket. The empty poison vial, she thought. But when she pulled the object from her pocket it wasn't an empty vial. It was a small, glimmering, pink bottle that was brimming with skooma.  
>Veria cursed inwardly. Damned cat must have put it in her pocket when she bumped into him, she thought.<p>

She should have dumped it out the window, or buried it under the floorboards, and she considered doing so. But in the end, she put it back in her pocket. There it remained during the weeks she spent working the mines in Dawnstar. The woman who drove the workers was relentless, and the work was hard. It gave her mind little time to wander, but the pink bottle in her pocket felt heavier and heavier with each passing day.

It was on the road to Winterhold where she finally gave in. When the liquid hit her stomach, it was if the weight of her bones became that of clouds. Her heart became light, and all the sadness and grief and pain that had plagued her for so long seemed to melt like snow on the hearth. All the love she had ever felt in flesh and soul seemed to flood into her tenfold.

And all to soon it dampened and faded. All was back as it was. Gray, heavy, and painful as the shackles of those damned to Oblivion. Feeling even heavier than before, she passed through Winterhold and continued down the road. She came to a crossroads. Windhelm lay only an hour's walk from where she stood, and there would be warm with food and beds and perhaps even pleasurable company.

But she was born in Windhelm. She spent her childhood there, and had life she had no desire to return to. It was there she was stolen away by a band of mercenaries years ago, and where she first met Tulian. So, despite her freezing feet and heavy soul, she continued on.

Veria traveled the western road of Skyrim and wished so dearly she had bought better poison. Outside Kynesgrove, a small settlement just south of Windhelm, Veria spotted a small, familiar tent. She never thought she'd be so happy to see a pack of Khajiit in her life.


	7. Chapter 7

Veria spent an increasing amount of time on her back, staring up into nothing and feeling as if she was floating among the clouds. She no longer worked for food and lodging. She worked for skooma. In the first few weeks she was in Kynesgrove, and she still had wit enough to know she had to eat.  
>Eventually, though, her appetite gave way to thirst for the sweet crystals of Elsweyr. Every time she sunk out of the euphoria she felt slower and heavier than before, and working in the mines of Kynesgrove soon became impossible for her.<p>

She lent help on the farm and to the blacksmith, but it wasn't long until the people of the village became aware of her habit. She chased Khajiit caravans, pawned her weapons and other trinkets, even once lent her flesh in exchange for a single bottle.  
>The only thing she kept close was her leather armor. She felt naked without some kind of protection, even under the pink haze.<p>

Eventually, even the joys of skooma began to dwindle. Veria noticed every time she woke from its influence that less and less time had passed. The euphoria was dampening, and becoming more brief. She started consuming multiple bottles at once, and although it revived the ecstasy for a short while, it ate away at her quickly. Her flesh clung to her skin like a wet rag. Reddish shadows stained the skin under her eyes, and even her hair lost its luster.

It was the trembling that drove her mad. Without skooma in her throat, her body protested and convulsed in need of it. She felt true dread when even under the influence of two doses, the shaking persisted. She begged dealers for more, but she cleaned them out. One of them, a young man who had a thing or two to gain from the situation, let Veria in on a little secret.

Redwater Den felt like a blessing from Talos himself. Somewhere in the wilds of the Rift was a broken down shack that no one would have taken a second look at. But thanks to the word of merciful seller Veria knew what to say to the guard at the door. She was lead down the stairs to the basement where in exchange for a few septims she was handed a small, red vial of Redwater skooma.

It glimmered like a ruby in her hands, and she had never been so dazzled in her life. Time melted around her as she sunk into the sweet, crimson perfumes. She felt light again, and all manners of pleasure seeped into her. It was a sharper, spicier kind of feeling than what normal skooma gave her, but there was also something darker about it. Beyond the red trails of steam there was blackness that seemed endless, as if all semblance of place had dissolved with the skooma crystals.

Veria lay on her back, staring up into the blackness above her and watching the trails of red steam weave between each other like ribbons dancing in the wind. The shadows shifted and converged on one another. The ribbons tangled together and slipped from each other as if caught in a dance. From the shadows above her, he descended. Tulian's face, his scales, even his smell was upon her.

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and his wordless whispers in her ears. She reached up to touch him, and it was as if he had never left. Her fingers passed over his face and neck. She felt the cool, familiar touch of this scales. In her chest, a yearning rose that was so strong it hurt, and her eyes took to passing tears down her temples and into her hair.

"Tulian," she whimpered through her tears. "Please stay. Please..."  
>He held her face in his palm and gazed sorrowfully into her eyes. He looked pained; on the verge of tears.<br>"Veria," he whispered. Veria almost cried out at the sound of her name on Tulian's lips once again. His voice echoed in the blackness despite its softness. It felt otherworldly, as if it didn't belong in the ears of those still living on the mortal plane.  
>"Veria," Tulian whispered again, his eyes quivering with sorrow she had never seen in him before. "You should not be here."<p>

Veria's voice rose and shook with rising hysteria. "I don't know what to do, Tulian. Every time I think of you it hurts. Nothing means anything, there's nothing I can I do, I don't..." She didn't know what she was saying. She stumbled over the words she babbled, lost in sorrow and confusion.  
>Tulian hushed her gently and brushed his fingers over her forehead.<br>"Get up," he said. "There are still things you must do."

"Tulian?" His touch grew looser, and he seemed to be rising further away. She tried to pull him back, but her hands passed through him like smoke. "Let me go with you, Tulian." His form was melting. Veria stretched up and grasped at him desperately, but there was nothing she could do to stop him fading back into the shadows. She cried out for him, but her voice sounded far away.  
>Suddenly, a void opened up beneath her and in a rush of air like a gasp it swallowed the fumes, the shadows, and Veria's body entirely.<p>

Her eyes snapped open.

The influence of the skooma had passed. She was once again in Redwater Den, and everything was still. The only sound were the aroused moans of the addicts around her, and the soft hiss of steam as it rose to the rafters.  
>Veria pushed herself up, feeling as heavy as iron. Her head felt ready to burst, and she pressed her fingers into her temples in search of relief. The itch returned in a matter of minutes. She thought that if she could get a bit more skooma, maybe Tulian would come back to her.<p>

Just one more vial, she thought. That was all she needed. Just one more.  
>But she had no more gold. Nothing to bargain with. She was thrown out immediately when she couldn't pay, and no amount of beating at the door helped.<p>

_You should not be here._

His words echoed in her mind as she stumbled away from the run-down shack. If not here, she thought, then where?

_There are still things you must do._

What kind of things? What could possibly be asked of her now, in this state? She was weak and useless. She had nothing but the leather on her back. Sithis couldn't possibly want her back, not after she abandoned the Brotherhood and ran from his grasp. If she died, she wondered if she would even be welcomed into the Void. Sovngarde would never have her, and she had no loyalty to any of the other gods, daedra or otherwise.

Veria concluded that even in death, she'd be lost. She'd likely wander the trails of Skyrim as a silvery specter for all eternity, forever restless.  
>She thought through all this as she picked her way through the wilderness. A hungry wolf spotted her, but like all predators knew not to eat of diseased prey, and moved on. Veria stumbled across the cobblestone road rather accidentally, and decided to take a rest there on the ground.<p>

The jitters grew strong, and Veria was soon shaking as if a cold wind was blowing by.  
><em>You shouldn't be here.<em>  
>She fought to think through the thirst, and considered her dream. Was is simply a dream, she wondered, or a vision? Did Tulian speak to her beyond the grave or was it simply a product of her agonized, deluded mind?<p>

Whatever it was, it left Veria wondering what Tulian would think of her now. What would Astrid say, she wondered. What would Tulian do?  
>"He'd lock me away," she mumbled to herself. "He'd slap me and lock me up until this shaking passed..."<br>She didn't need to be locked up. She had no more money, no way to get more skooma.

Veria decided she needed food. Something to smother the thirst. She walked as straight as she could and devoured any berries and healthy herbs she could find along the road. The thirst persisted, but Veria refused to let it overtake her. She was going to need real food eventually, she knew, but she was too dulled to hunt successfully, let alone to build a fire and shelter.

A town, she thought. A city or village is what she needed. She didn't quite know where she was but the road would take her to one eventually. When she got there, though, she'd need money.  
>In a stroke of fortune she almost thanked Talos for, she spotted a traveler ahead of her. He was heading the opposite direction, coming towards her. Perfect, she thought.<p>

There was a bridge between them, and as Veria stepped onto it she tried very hard to seem harmless. She walked straight and clenched her fists to quell the shakes. She squinted ahead. The stranger was clad not in armor but fine robes, as if he was a noble. Excellent, she thought. Easy pickings.  
>They were only a few paces apart now. Veria stretched her fingers. She was out of practice, but the years of pickpocketing still hid in her bones somewhere. She simply had to dig it out again.<p>

Five steps away, Veria glanced to the side to seem uninterested in the stranger. Two steps, she angled her hand. One step, she bent her elbow. The coin purse attached to his belt passed by her hip. This gold would get her food in the next town. Hot bread, a mug of mead, and some steaming meat. Maybe, she thought. She could have just a tiny bit of skooma with it.  
><em>Now.<em> She struck, slipping her hand into the fold and dipping into the stacks of gold within.

But she was slow and clumsy. The instant she moved the stranger roared and grabbed her by the wrist. "HEY!" he bellowed. "How dare you!" He wrenched her by the wrist, dislocating her shoulder and smashing her into the ground. It was only now that she realized her target had been a finely dressed orc.  
>Fool, she cursed at herself inwardly. How could she not notice such a thing?<p>

Veria tried to grab at him but she was uncoordinated and sluggish. Her muscles were still intact but the skooma had taken its toll on her reflexes. There was nothing she could do as the orc picked her up, threw her, and beat her into a bloody mess. Her ribs cracked, several bones were broken, and blood caked her eyes and mouth. The orc was furious. He wouldn't let up.  
>Finally, Veria was on the verge of unconsciousness.<p>

The orc picked up what remained of her and held her over his head. With a roar of anger he threw her over the side of the bridge and into the cold, angry waters of Lake Honrich below.


	8. Chapter 8

The freezing arms of the river pummeled Veria's weak body downstream. She was powerless to fight against it. Her frame was torn back and forth so violently she quickly lost all sense of direction. Her arms and legs burned as she struggled to keep her head above water. At most, she won a breath or two before being pulled beneath the waves again. Her lungs screamed, her mind clouded, and her body fought with an insatiable will to live that her conscious mind had somehow forgotten.

But it was for naught. The will was there in her flesh but the flesh itself failed her. Exhaustion made her muscles go limp. Her leg cramped and the current pulled her so far under she lost sight of the light. The river bent suddenly and she collided with a large boulder, which knocked whatever breath she had out of her in a cloud of bubbles. Her vision darkened, and just as she lost consciousness her thoughts wandered to the Void.

* * *

><p>The smooth, glassy surface of Lake Honrich reflected the moons and stars above as perfectly as the finest mirrors found in the bedchambers of nobles. The shores of the Rift were shrouded in midnight fog, and the city of Riften slept hidden in its grasp.<br>A full day had passed since Veria muscled her way into the city. Upon entering she had collapsed, and almost wished the rats would devour her as she slept.

Dreams and nightmares washed over her like fog, indistinct and vague with no real form. Her mind made her remember the fall. She chased someone up the bridge as it rose into the clouds. She reached out to grab him but he kept slipping away. She tried shouting at him, but her voice made no sound.  
>The clouds parted as she reached the top of the bridge, upon which an orc, as large as a troll, took her in his fist and hurled her over the edge. As Veria fell away, she looked up and glimpsed Tulian standing at the top of bridge, growing ever farther away as she fell, fell, fell...<p>

Shadows danced in front of her eyes. Darkness pressed in on all sides. She felt Oblivion itself staring into her back with its fiery eyes, but she could not turn to look back at it. A tiny point of light appeared in the back of her vision. _There is work to be done_.

Veria's eyes snapped open. She was on a bed, looking up at the rafters of some warmly lit room. She tried to move, but her body felt like lead. What place is this, she wondered. She tilted her head to the side, and was met with a wall. With some effort, she tilted her head the opposite direction.  
>The room was small and lit by three candles dispersed here and there. There were no windows, and in the gloom she could make out sparse scatterings of objects. Whoever owned the place liked flowers; bushels of dried foxglove, mountain flowers, and other blooms adorned the walls, as well as fresh bunches resting in steins filled with water.<br>It seemed a pleasant enough place, but it was unfamiliar, and that was enough to make Veria uneasy.

The door was in view, cracked open and casting warm, flickering light from the room beyond. A shadow passed over it, and with a creak of rusty door hinges a figure entered the bedchamber.  
>She was robed in soft, warm-colored fabric with long dark hair that cascaded from inside the hood that covered her head. She was holding something metallic in her hand. Instinctively, Veria tried to sit up and defend herself, but her body was still weak and exhausted from her trip down the river.<p>

The woman raised her hand and rushed to Veria's side. "Oh, dear child," she said. "You're finally awake! We were beginning to fear the worst..."  
>Veria tried to push herself away from the woman.<br>"Where am I?" she demanded.  
>The woman took two steps back and said gently, "The Temple of Mara, in Riften. You're in no danger here. We found you collapsed on the street and brought you in before the thieves could pick you clean. Thank Mara, you've finally recovered."<p>

"Temple of Mara?" Veria said absently as she slowly forced herself into a sitting position. "How long have I been asleep?"  
>The woman placed a basin of water with a rag on the bedside table. "A full day. The sun is about to rise." She soaked the rag in water and tried to clean Veria's face, but Veria pushed her away. The woman replaced the rag and did not try again.<p>

She lowered her hood, and Veria saw her aged but still-beautiful face. Soft wrinkles around her eyes and mouth marked her as at least twice Veria's age, but her eyes where bright and unburdened, as if she lived content in all the things she has done.  
>"My name is Macara," she said. "They call me Macara the Soft, but I prefer simply Macara." She waited for Veria to respond, but the silence stretched on. Finally she rose, saying, "You must be starving. I'll get you a bit of food."<p>

Veria was able to get her feet on the ground but didn't get around to standing before Macara returned with a plate of bread, cheese, and a bit of meat. She offered the plate, but Veria pushed it away. "No," she said curtly. "I don't need your food. I'm leaving."  
>"Don't be silly," Macara said, pushing the plate into Veria's hands. "You haven't eaten in at least a day, and you need your strength." She took a seat nearby and waited.<p>

At the thought of it, Veria's stomach suddenly felt painfully empty. Without thinking, she devoured the bread in three mouthfuls. The cheese and meat were consumed just as fast. Her appetite, which had eluded her for months, had returned. The simple food before her tasted like it was prepared the halls Sovngarde itself. Her body sang with joy as she filled herself with it.  
>As she ate, a strange sense came over her. She felt wrong, like something was missing. She of course had been without supplies for ages, and had long since stopped missing them. After the last bit of food had disappeared, she realized that the return of her hunger for food had been at the expense of her thirst for skooma.<p>

The thirst, the insatiable itch in the back of her head, was gone. Her limbs felt steady, and she felt her muscles waking with every passing moment. What could have done this, she wondered. The cold water? The day of rest? Walking on the brink of the Void?  
>She looked up to Macara, and it was as if she knew exactly what Veria was thinking.<p>

She bowed her head and said, "By the blessing of my lady Mara, I've cured you of your addiction." Veria raised her arm as if in defense, and suddenly found herself unsure of what to say. Macara continued, "Forgive me...when tending your wounds the signs of skooma poisoning were everywhere. I felt it necessary to properly revive you-"  
>Veria rather suddenly struggled to her feet and stood before her. Macara, surprised at such a quick recovery, was struck silent. She was further surprised when Veria sank to her knees at her feet. She was still weak after all.<p>

Veria's head slumped, and her forehead rested on Marcara's knees. Macara's hand hovered over Veria's head. She was unsure if the girl was still awake. "My dear?" she said.  
>Veria's voice came so softly that Macara almost didn't hear it. She bent over and heard a tiny, whispered thanks, then silence. After a moment, Macara realized that the girl had indeed fallen back to sleep. She rested her hand gently on Veria's reddish-brown hair. "You are very welcome, child."<p>

* * *

><p>Veria slept for only a few hours. Macara was preparing a midday meal when Veria came out of the bedchamber where she had been laid.<br>"My dear," Macara greeted her warmly. "Has your strength returned already?"  
>Veria stood taller than she had in ages. Her shoulders were squared and her eyes set harshly. She was unsmiling, and had a steely presence in the doorway. Half hidden in shadow, she looked almost sinister. Macara ignored the caution that suddenly fluttered in her chest.<p>

"Thank you for all that you've done for me," Veria said politely. "But I must be on my way."  
>Macara nodded and offered a smile as Veria walked past her towards the main hall. "May Mara light your path, child," she said.<br>At this, Veria paused. She turned and addressed Macara cleanly, "I'm afraid your blessings are wasted, priestess. My path is shrouded in darkness, where Mara and her kind don't dare tread. You will not see me in this temple again. I do not subscribe to the guidance of divine light."

At these words Macara did not frown or scowl. Her face remained content, and her warm, inviting smile was unwavering. "Mara touches all of us, child. Even those living in darkness."  
>Veria turned and continued towards the door. "Not me," she said.<br>Before Veria shut the door behind her, she heard Macara say gently, "You'd be surprised."

The door latched shut, and Veria sighed heavily. The air was crisp and stale. It carried with it the faint scent of fish, mead, and excrement. Riften was a filthy place, everyone in Skyrim knew that. Filthy with dirt, crime, and corruption, or so the stories went. It seemed like the perfect place for Veria to find her center again. Her muscles were weak from neglect, but her fingers itched for action. So, her first order of business was to find an easy target.

She descended the steps of the temple and walked along the streets, taking stock of the town. The road was old, worn, and dark with grime so old and hardened that rain failed to wash it clean. A beggar or two was always in sight, rummaging through piles of discarded waste or sitting by the market, fishing for free coin. Veria knew they were not to be underestimated. In exchange for a few coins it was likely they could tell her a good deal of secrets about the city.

The guards were rough and impolite. The citizens were mostly just as negligent. They went about their work without really noticing Veria, just as she liked it. She was rusty, but even in the daylight she was able to elude the notice of most people, especially the guards. It was a lot of hiding in plain sight, body language, and glancing to the side at just the right moment. All this was important in her first task.

The meal Macara gave her was reviving, but was still hungry. She'd need new gear soon, and somewhere to stay. All this required gold, which she had none of. This minor setback was the perfect opportunity to polish her pickpocketing skills.  
>She started on the docks where the fishermen were loading and unloading the boats. They were focused on their work and wouldn't notice much. Veria made like she was looking for work, asking small questions here and there. She was rejected everywhere, as she expected, but by the time she returned to the main street she had a pocketful of septims.<p>

Fighting the urge to whistle as she went, Veria strolled through the marketplace to the Bee and Barb inn for a meal. As she entered, an Imperial-looking woman bumped into her. They exchanged apologies, and Veria continued on her way with a few extra coins in her pocket.  
>The motions were returning faster than she hoped. The thought of her life so quickly returning to her made her meal of mead and horker loaf taste all the sweeter.<p>

She ate her fill of mead and meat, and was quietly merry for what felt like the first time in her life. If only the innkeeper wasn't Argonian, she thought while watching him from behind her mug. It wasn't quite painful to see an Argonian in front of her, but it was enough to dampen her spirits.  
>Suddenly bored of the crowded, warm atmosphere of the inn, Veria decided to further explore the town before settling in for the night. She still had a bit of coin in her pocket, and wondered if she should try to haggle a dagger out of the blacksmith.<p>

The sun was low in the sky, but it wasn't quite dark enough to be evening. The marketplace was still open and people still bustled about their business in the streets. As she walked, Veria's mind wandered. She thought back to last few months, and couldn't bring herself to count how long she'd been adrift. She didn't want to think about it at all, and instead focused on the street ahead of her.  
>Someone meandered in front of her, and almost out of habit she flicked her wrist towards his pocket as they passed each other. When she leaned away, she felt her wrist suddenly catch in the grip of a strong fist. The memory of the orc flickered in her mind, and she tried once to break the man's grasp.<p>

His hold didn't falter, and he instead held her hand upwards. She still clenched two coins from his pocket. "Hmm," he said. It was a curious, almost contemplative sound. Veria, surprised, looked up at him and saw not an ounce outrage. The man held his index finger to his chin and looked down at Veria through eyes that almost looked happy. A smile played on the corner of his mouth, and he plucked the coins from Veria's fingers.  
>"Say, lass," he said. His tone was bewilderingly light and inviting, almost playful. "I'd be willing to bet that you didn't earn a single one of these septims."<p>

He held up his free hand and displayed a small stack of coins. Veria's hand flew to her pocket, which she found empty. "I..." she began. "I don't know what you're talking about. Let go of me!" She tried again to break free of his grasp, but it was unyielding.  
>"Now, now," he said. "Don't get upset..." He pushed the stolen money into her palm and lowered his tone slightly. His eyes glinted with a mischievous light.<br>"How'd you like to make a bit more coin?"


	9. Chapter 9

"How'd you like to make a bit more coin?"  
>The glint in the man's eyes gave rise to a flare of fury in Veria's chest. Scowling, she tried again to tear her wrist from his grasp.<br>"I know what you're thinking," she growled. "I'm not a prostitute. Unhand me!"  
>The man laughed once and held up a defensive palm. "No, no, lass," he said. "Nothing like that." He released her wrist and she pocket the coins. Before she could take off, he continued, "I just mean you seem to know your way about the shadows. Why not humor me with a small wager?"<p>

Frowning, Veria cocked an eyebrow at him. "What kind of wager?"  
>The man's smile persisted. What did he find so humorous? "No need to look so cross. It'll be fun."<br>Veria crossed her arms and waited impatiently for him to get to the point.  
>"I'll wager all the coin in my pocket that you can't pick Madesi's prized ring from under his jewelry stall without anyone noticing."<br>Veria huffed, "What, all two coins?"  
>"You think I keep all my septims in one pocket? Give me a bit more credit than that."<p>

Veria turned from him and said, "I'm no thief. You're the one who stole from me."  
>The man's tone lowered, and he inched closer. "Come now, lass, do you really think all your work on the docks went unnoticed?" Veria whipped her head around to threaten him with a poisonous gaze, but he seemed unfazed. She scowled at him for a few long moments, until finally saying, "Which one is Madesi?"<br>He flipped the two coins from his pocket into the air and caught them expertly. "The Argonian. He sells jewelry in the marketplace. I'll create a small diversion. When he steps away, break into the strongbox under his stand." He took out two lockpicks and discreetly slipped them into Veria's hands. "Use those."

Veria's venomous eyes did not soften. "Who are you?" she asked.  
>With a smile, the man bowed his head slightly and said, "Just a humble merchant of magical cures. Best be on our way, lass. The light won't last forever."<br>Without another word, Veria went on ahead towards the marketplace. She walked casually around the outside of the town square, dissipating into the background noise of the city.  
>The 'merchant' entered the square soon after. "Everyone!" He shouted. "Gather 'round! I've got something amazing to show you!" He held up a large red bottle. The people of the marketplace drifted towards where he stood. Even the the Argonian left his shop, saying "What is it now, Brynjolf? Another one of your tricks?"<br>"Madesi, my friend, this is no trick! What I have here is an elixir with powers beyond imagination..." He went on, his words dripped with excitement and a few in the audience were in awe.

Meanwhile, Veria got to work. She moved in the moment Madesi's stand was vacant. She was swift and went as unnoticed as a shadow. The lockbox was no match for her; within moments she was slipping away from the scene, a small ring in her fist.  
>As she walked, she thought about how naturally lockpicking felt, even after all this time. Pickpocketing still needed work, and no doubt her technique with a dagger needed polish, but holding a pick in her fingers felt right, as if her hand was incomplete without one. Tulian had taught her how to pick her first lock, she remembered. Her fingers would not forget it so easily. At the thought of him, her chest felt heavy, and she shook her head to clear it. Now is not the time to feel grief, she thought. There was business to attend to.<p>

* * *

><p>When Veria handed the ring over he held it up the light with a smile. "Well done," he said. "You're better than I thought!"<br>They stood in an alley away from the dying light of day. Prying eyes wouldn't find them here.  
>"I think you owe me something," Veria said, arms crossed. He nodded and pulled a small pouch from a hidden pocket inside his blue robes. Veria weighed it in her hand.<br>"One hundred coins," he said, flicking the ring into the air and pocketing it. "Our transaction is complete. But maybe you'd be interested in making a bit more?"  
>Veria narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She considered him for a long moment. "What do you want?"<br>"Lass, I'm just trying to help. You see, I'm always on the lookout for talented individuals to...well, to help out around the house." At this, Veria raised an eyebrow. He continued, "You'd make ten times the amount you made today, and I promise it'll me more fun than swiping rings from Argonians." Veria remained silent, glaring at him. He waited for her respond.

Finally, she said, "Who are you?"  
>Smiling, the man offered his hand and said, "They call me Brynjolf." Veria took his hand but did not offer her name. "You don't have to decide right away, but the offer won't last forever."<br>"What kind of house do you run, Brynjolf?"  
>He released her hand and held up an index finger. "Ah," he said. "Now, that's for you to find out." He walked past Veria towards the street. As he passed, he said, "Go to the Ratway under Riften. If you can find your way to the inner cistern, you'll learn just what kind of house we run."<br>Veria sneered. "I never said I was interested," she said.

Brynjolf chuckled and said, "I know an interested party when I see one, lass. Deliberate if you must but don't take too long." He continued on his way. "I'll see you around, lass."  
>He turned the corner and was gone. Veria stood alone in the rapidly-chilling air and wondered. What kind of deal was this? Was it a setup? There was no way she could trust Brynjolf; she barely knew the man. However, the fact that he didn't pry Veria for her name indicated that he knew this. There was no doubting he was in the business of shadows. Whatever he was offering her would probably be a good fit. At the very least, it would be a good way to spend her time on while she worked on getting herself back together. Despite all the progress she made that day, she still felt incomplete and empty. She didn't have any real purpose. Maybe this job, or contract, or whatever it was, would be good for her.<p>

Veria continued turning the issue over and around in her head, becoming increasingly aware of her exhaustion as it weighed down on her. She decided a night in the inn would probably help make up her mind, and headed for main street.

* * *

><p>100 septims was more than enough for a night at the Bee and Barb. When Veria was shown to her room, she locked the door, lay down, and almost immediately slipped into a dream.<p>

She floated on her back in a river that stretched out in every direction. The surface was smooth and glassy. Mist drifted around her, concealing any semblance of shoreline or sky. It was quiet, and the light was pale and colorless. She felt content and relaxed as she slowly drifted.  
>The wind picked up and chilled her skin. The glassy surface fractured, and an onslaught of waves suddenly overcame her. She tried to fight it, but she couldn't move. Then, very suddenly, she was pulled underwater into the blackness. She couldn't see the hands that pulled her down, but she could feel them grasping her on every limb.<p>

Veria peered up towards the surface, desperate for a rescue. As of in response to her distress, a figure appeared above the surface. Her form was shifting and indistinct as it was distorted through the water, but Veria could make out the shape of a long dress and hair as it blew in the wind above the surface. The figure bent and from the watery veil came a thin, beautiful, pale hand. It reached down, grasped Veria, and pulled her to the surface.  
>As she broke the surface, she coughed and sputtered and cleared the water from her eyes. She blinked, and as her vision cleared there was no mysterious woman. Instead it was Brynjolf holding her hand and keeping her afloat.<br>She barely had time to register his face when she suddenly woke.

The room was dark, as there were no windows. When she cracked open the door she saw the morning was young. The dim light still held the blue shades of night, and it provided excellent cover as she slipped across the hall to the stairs. Without the innkeepers noticing she descended the stairs to the front door and slipped out to the street. The ignorance of strangers to her movements was a comfort.  
>The less that knew of her trip into the Ratway, the better.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

The Ratway was dim, dank, and an all-around miserable place to be. Veria killed five skeevers in the first twenty paces or so into the stinking tunnels and was already annoyed at all the trouble. Even the Brotherhood was a little cleaner with their front door, she thought. To make things more irksome, she had to be bothered to find levers and wheels in the grimy darkness of the sewers in order to lower drawbridges and open locked doors. It was child's play, to say the least. Incredibly dull and uncreative child's play at that. "There _must _be another entrance," she grumbled to herself when she realized she was being tested. As she picked her way through corridors and trap doors she came to the rather obvious conclusion as to just what kind of organization she was headed for. Her musings, however, were frequently interrupted by vermin snapping at her ankles.

The skeevers were easily dispatched, and within the hour she found herself in a small room lit by a single torch hanging by a grimy but solid door. She pushed through and let the heavy door seal shut behind her. At the end of the dark tunnel she had stepped into she could see pale light, and gleaming refractions that signaled the presence of water. That had to be the inner cistern ahead, she thought.

As she stepped into the watery light she was greeted by a high, curving ceiling encasing a large, slimy room that held a reservoir of cloudy water. A bridge had been cobbled together with damp wood, and across the way Veria could see a makeshift tavern piled high with crates, mead, and shady men that all turned to stare when she entered. They all drew daggers and swords at the sight of her, and the largest of them approached her with his hand resting on the hilt of his war hammer.

His hair was dark and his eyes were black with pitch, like a racoon's. Veria stood unwavering on the bridge until he stopped inches in front of her. His voice was deep and sinister as he said, "You lookin' for trouble, outsider?"  
>Unfazed, Veria crossed her arms and peered venomously into his eyes. "Step away from me. I'm here for Brynjolf."<br>His hand dropped to his side and clenched into a fist. "And what's your business with Brynjolf?"

"Lass!" The man in question suddenly appeared and gave the burly thug a hearty slap on the shoulder. "That's quite enough, Maul. No need to worry about this one. Go back to the Keep and tell Maven what I said."  
>Maul grumbled and pushed rather rudely past Veria without giving her a second more of his time. Brynjolf stood before her, his disposition subdued but clearly excited. Behind him, Veria saw the men had returned to their business, and she felt relieved to be ignored.<br>"You made it." Brynjolf said, drawing her attention. "Well done, lass."

She almost laughed at his apparent pride in the matter. "Enough," she said. "I'm here for coin, not your praise."  
>Brynjolf smiled and his eyes sobered, "Follow me. I'll show you around the place."<br>He turned on his heel and she followed beside him as he led her through the tiny makeshift tavern. She spotted a sign naming the place.  
>"This is the Ragged Flagon," Brynjolf said. "You've probably worked out by now that this is the home of Thieves Guild."<br>Veria gave a patronizing smile. "That much was obvious, sir."  
>"Well, I'm glad to find you're not a complete simpleton."<p>

Veria scowled at the jab but followed him silently to a door tucked into the corner of the room. With a loud creak it opened to much larger cistern lit by sunlight pouring through the top of a hooded well. It was probably the top of the well in the marketplace, Veria thought.  
>As grand as the place was, it felt almost abandoned. There were only a few people tucked into the corners sharpening daggers or counting coin, and the only sounds were the lapping of water on stone and sighs of bored thieves.<br>"It might not look like much," Brynjolf said, turning to her. "But it's home."

Glancing around, Veria crossed her arms and said, "You're right. It's dim, and empty. There's a musty smell in the air, and there's darkness in every corner. But..." She paused, then finished, "I like it."  
>Brynjolf smiled soberly and said, "In the good old days, we had merchants lining the walls; our own bustling black market. The Ragged Flagon was crowded, and the coffers were overflowing with gold. But..." A grimace crossed his face and he said, "These days...I admit things haven't been going so well. It's just been a few years of bad luck, you know."<br>"Then why should I be interested in a dried-up house like this?" Veria challenged.  
>"Because you can help us rise again. We need fresh talent like you to become the guild we once were. Feared, respected, like in the old days."<br>"What's in it for me?"  
>"This place would be yours to call home. You'd always be welcome here, and there would always be work for you. Your pockets would always be lined with gold, and you'd never go hungry. And, if you want," his voice grew a little quieter and he continued, "we'll help you kick that skooma habit of yours."<p>

Veria's face flared into a defensive scowl. "How did you-"  
>"Come now, lass," he held up his palms. "A half-dead skooma addict doesn't just wander into town unnoticed. Maul is always on the prowl."<br>"I don't need your help in that matter," she said a little too quickly, but he backed off and didn't press her. Instead he asked, "So, what'll it be? You fancy becoming a member of the Thieves Guild?"  
>Veria considered him through narrowed eyes for a long while. She didn't see any reason to refuse, so she rested her hands on her hips and nodded once.<p>

"Splendid," Brynjolf said in a business-like tone. "Before I can make you an official member, I need you to do a few small tasks for me. Just to make sure you're right for the Guild."  
>Veria raised an eyebrow. "You have another job for me already?"<br>"There's always work to be done when building an empire, lass. And a recruit like yourself is perfect for what I have in mind."  
>"What do you need me to do?"<br>He chuckled and said, "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but don't get too excited." He crossed his arms and got to business. "From time to time the people of Riften need some... financial assistance from the Guild. We're happy to provide, but we expect repayment. Three of our borrowers are overdue. I need you to collect their debts."  
>"Who are they?"<p>

Brynjolf gave her the details of each debtor; where they worked, what they owed, what might convince them to pay up, and so on. "And remember this, lass," Brynjolf said. "We have a rule here: no killing our marks. Shake them up a little if you have to but murder is off limits. We're not the Dark Brotherhood."  
>Veria nodded and fought the urge to twitch at the sound of her old family's name. It wouldn't do to let Brynjolf know too much about her past, so she simply nodded in understanding. Brynjolf showed her to the secret back entrance, and bid her farewell.<br>"One more thing," he called as she alighted the stairway. "It would benefit our relationship greatly if I knew what to call you."

Veria glanced back at him and deliberated a moment. Finally she said, "'Lass' will do for now." He cocked and eyebrow, then chuckled at her stubbornness. She turned and pushed her way to the exit before he could retort.


	11. Chapter 11

Her task was easy, but Veria didn't mind. First she visited was Bersi Honey-Hand, a man who owned a store near the Blackbriar Meadery. It was a damp hole in the wall called the Pawned Prawn, and Veria had no qualms about abusing the door as she entered.  
>"Careful, friend!" Bersi called from behind the counter, hiding his annoyance at the brutish entry. "That door is older than you are. What can I get you on this fine day?"<p>

Veria strode over to the counter and slammed down her forearm on the surface. She leaned forward and said "I've got a message for you."  
>Bersi's face fell from congeniality to angry annoyance. "Oh. It's one of you people, is it? What, Brynjolf doesn't bother showing up himself anymore? What in Oblivion does he want?"<br>"Pay what you owe, Bersi," Veria said. "Or things might get a little messy around here."  
>The fool scoffed. "Ha! Please. Empty threats won't sway me. You people are all bark and no bite. Everyone knows it. Why don't you run back to your hole, little dog, and leave my wife and I in peace?"<p>

Not surprised by the resistance, Veria straightened and slowly backed away, finally stopping beside a table on which stood a fine-looking urn. "Hmm..." She placed a delicate finger on the lip and traced its circumference. "This is nice."  
>With a gentle push, she tipped the urn precariously on the edge of the table. "Get your filthy paws of that!" Bersi yelled. Unsatisfied, Veria flicked her finger and sent the object plummeting to the floor where it clattered dangerously.<br>"You remember the exact amount, don't you, Bersi?" She picked up a heavy candlestick from the same table and held it over the miraculously unbroken urn. A woman that could only be Bersi's wife cried out beside him.

He gritted his teeth and said, "Don't you dare-"  
>Wrong answer. Veria let the candlestick fall, and was rewarded with a loud shattering sound as it made contact with the urn. Bersi cried out, "No! You fool! That urn was priceless!"<br>She plucked the candlestick from the shattered remains of the urn and turned it over in her hands. "Anything else I can break around here?" She asked.  
>"No!" Bersi held up his palms in defeat. "You win, alright? That's enough. I'll pay on time from now on, I promise. Make sure Brynjolf knows." Without responding she strolled over and slammed the candlestick onto the counter surface with a loud <em>bang<em>. Bersi jumped and dug a coin purse from inside his pocket.

"Here! Here." He pushed it towards her and she pocketed it. "You have your gold. Leave me and my wife in peace!"  
>Veria pushed the candlestick over before finally backing off and leaving the couple amidst their broken treasure. It was worth it to squeeze one more jump scare out of them.<br>Once on the street, she took a deep breath. That was far more amusing than she thought it'd be, and she headed for the next debtor with eagerness in her step.

Keerava was one of the Argonians running the Bee and Barb. She stood out like a sore thumb, a scaly maid serving drinks to the patrons of the inn. When Veria strode up to the counter, she was lifting a fresh mug of ale to deliver to a thirsty customer. Veria wrapped her palm around the lip of the mug and slammed it back down onto the counter. Ale spilled out over their hands, and Keerava sneered angrily.  
>"Brynjolf sent me to deliver a message," Veria said before she could berate her.<br>This made Keerava scowl harder. "I already told that oaf that I'm done paying! You people won't see another septim from me!"  
>Veria abruptly slid the mug closer, and Keerava was wise to slip her hand from it and reach for a fresh one. "It wasn't a request," Veria growled.<br>Keerava filled the new mug and spat, "Go jump in the river, why don't you?" She left Veria at the bar without a single coin.

Veria sighed in annoyance, but instead of pursuing her, shifted to the Argonian man tending the other side of the counter. She simply leaned on her elbows, fixing him in her venomous stare. There was no doubt that he heard the whole exchange, and her attention was clearly causing discomfort.  
>"Look," he said finally, avoiding her gaze. "I don't want any trouble-"<br>"Then talk some sense into her, Talen-Jei." Veria recalled his name from the information that Brynjolf gave her.  
>He glanced at her, hate and caution in his eyes. "The last thing I want is a war with your people, Thief."<br>"Then cooperate, and everyone is happy."

Talen-Jei sighed heavily, and rubbed his brow. Finally he said, "Listen...she has some family at a farm just inside Morrowind. If you mention that you know about it, she might listen to you."  
>Veria straighten and nodded once. "Thank you for your help, Talen."<br>"Look. I'm doing this because I care about her. Don't think this means I accept what you people do. Please, just take your money and...don't harm anyone, please. I couldn't bear it."  
>Veria merely tilted her head upward and turned on her heel, leaving Talen-Jei petrified for his lover.<p>

It worked like a charm. At mention of her family, Keerava forked over the coin almost immediately. Veria left the inn, leaving two terrified Argonians in her wake.

Haelga was the easiest of them hall. Veria found her cleaning the tables of the Bunkhouse, a sorry establishment that housed the stinking dock workers of Riften. At the sight of Veria, she straightened and clenched her cleaning rag in her fist.  
>"You're that woman that's been terrorizing everyone," she said. Her face was more defensive than fearful, and Veria could tell this debtor was going to be simple. But what fun was it to simply get what she came for, she thought. Ignoring Haelga, she walked casually around the room.<br>"Brynjolf sent you for my debt, is that right?"

At a table tucked away in the corner of the room, Veria stopped. A golden statue of Dibella, the goddess of beauty, sat gleaming in a place where everything else was worn and dark with neglect. Veria rested a finger on the statue's forehead, feeling the smooth, polished surface.  
>Sensing a threat, Haelga rummaged through her pockets and said, "Please, there's no need for that. Here, I have what I owe." In an attempt at cooperation, she desperately held out a pouch of coin. Veria looked at Haelga and swiped the pouch from her hands.<p>

Instead of leaving, Veria looked back to the statue. It was captivating in its design, and it called up a fond memory of Markarth that Veria had almost forgotten in her grief.  
>Without another thought, she wrapped her arm around the statue's midsection and tucked it securely beside her. "I'll be off, then," she said.<br>"W-Wait!" Haelga cried as Veria started towards the door. "I paid your debt! Don't take Dibella! Please! I need her!"  
>Veria suddenly turned and pinned Haelga with a dangerous look. She said "What you fail to realize, my lady, is that your payment is overdue, which means that you've accumulated a bit of interest. I'm obligated to secure that interest in addition to what you already owe."<br>"I-interest!? But-"  
>"Don't worry. This will do just fine." Dibella safely tucked under her arm, Veria left the Bunkhouse with a little more than what was needed.<br>She figured a house of thieves wouldn't mind so much.

* * *

><p>"So, you got every last coin out of them, lass? I'm impressed- what's this?" Brynjolf eyed the Dibella statue under Veria's possessive hand.<br>"Just a little something for myself," Veria said passively.  
>Brynjolf furrowed his brow. "That's Haelga's...you didn't have to take it."<br>"Yeah. But I wanted it." When Brynjolf raised his eyebrows at the remark, she said, "I told her it was interest on her late loan. The others paid small additional prices. Why should she get off so easy?"

After a moment, Brynjolf smiled and laughed. "I think you'll fit in perfectly here, lass." He rested his hands on his hips and glanced over the three coin purses resting on the table. "You recollected every last coin, and better yet you did it clean. It's best you keep it that way. Dumping bodies and bribing guards gets expensive, fast."  
>"That won't be a problem. It was fun."<br>He hid a crooked smile as he scratched the bottom of his nose, and he considered her for a short moment. "Lass, you've done more than simply prove yourself. We need people like you in our outfit." He held out an open palm. "Welcome to the Guild, 'Lass.'"

Veria took his hand, but only humored him a moment before retracting her hand to say, "Enough pleasantries, Brynjolf. Tell me where I can find more gold."  
>He clapped his hands together and said, "That's the spirit, my friend! You'll feel right at home here." He motioned to the Dibella statues. "First off, you could probably fence that for a good price. Vex is the one to talk to about that. She's the pale one in the Ragged Flagon."<br>Veria shook her head. "No, I'll be keeping this statue for now. It..." She stopped, but Brynjolf looked confused at the unfinished sentence, so she continued, "I like it."  
>Clearly curious, Brynjolf glanced from Veria's face to the rather titillating sculpture and back, but said nothing.<p>

He shrugged, and said, "Do what you like." He turned and motion for her to follow. "Come on. Before we do anything else, I've got to convince the boss that you're worth it."  
>She trotted to catch up with his long strides, and came up beside him saying, "What, you're not the boss?"<br>"By the Nine, no! That'll be Mercer. He's somewhere around here. Probably the vault..." They were approaching a pair of heavily reinforced doors when Brynjolf suddenly stopped and turned to her. His voice was low and he used a no-nonsense tone as he said, "Now, before you meet him I really _must_ know what to call you."  
>She hesitated, and he continued, "It doesn't even have to be your real name...you see that woman over there?" He motioned to a Nord woman bickering with an elf in the corner of the cistern. "We call her Sapphire. You think that's her real name?"<p>

He waited for Veria to respond. She genuinely did not want to reveal her name, like it was a curse or something. After a long moment she looked him in the eyes and said, "Call me Wraith."  
>"...Wraith?" He nodded in understanding. "Not very ladylike, though..."<br>She rolled her eyes as they continued towards the vaults.

Almost on cue, one of the doors swung open and a ragged, mean-looking man emerged. "Mercer!" Brynjolf approached and began to explain about his new recruit. As he spoke, Mercer eyed Veria like she was a skeever trying to steal his dinner. When he finally addressed her, he was curt and impolite. "So you're the newest dog to stumble in here looking for coin, eh girl?"  
>"Mercer, this one is different. She got all our coin back and more. She knows how to get around without being seen." He glanced toward her and finished, "She's a natural."<br>Mercer crossed his arms and finally nodded. "Fine then. Give her some proper gear and a horker loaf. She's looks like a waif." Veria narrowed her eyes at him, but he continued, "Get yourself settled, greenhorn. Talk to me later and maybe I'll have a job for you."  
>He walked off without another word, and Brynjolf watched him go. When he was gone he muttered, "He's not the easiest person to get along with, but it's important that we follow his orders. Got that, Wraith?"<p>

Veria realized she was grinding her teeth; her dislike of the man must have been painted all over her face. She quickly subdued herself and glanced around the cistern, feigning disinterest. This got a chuckle out of Brynjolf and he gave her a pat on the back. "Follow me, Wisp. Let's get you out of that sorry excuse for armor."  
>She screwed her face into a scowl. "Wraith!"<br>He only chuckled and continued through the cistern.


	12. Chapter 12

"Listen to me, sweetheart. It's simple. You play by our rules, you'll walk away rich. You break the rules, you lose your share. Simple as that. You do what we say, when I say. Got it?"

Veria tolerated Mercer Frey's words through gritted teeth. There were few things she hated more than being berated by rules and demands like a child. It was only when she nodded in agreement that he finally gave her something interesting to do.

Her first task as a member of the Thieves Guild of Riften was to lift a precious crystal dagger from a convoy heading west towards Solitude. It seemed a little advanced for a first mark, and Brynjolf said as much. "Mercer, you don't mean that elf prince's dagger, do you? I mean, even Cynric-"  
>Mercer turned on him and said spitefully, "You said this new recruit of yours possesses an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it."<br>Brynjolf didn't protest further, and simply nodded in understanding. Mercer turned back to Veria. "Brynjolf will give you the details. I have work that needs tending to. Don't speak to me again until the job is finished."

He turned and went on his way. When he had gone, Brynjolf sighed.  
>"You shouldn't worry so much, Brynjolf. I can handle it." Her tone was resolute, and he nodded.<br>"What you're after," he began, "is a crystal dagger of impeccable craftsmanship. Completely useless as a weapon, of course, but it's been known to fetch high prices with collectors."  
>Veria adjusted her new set of leather armor. She was itching for a chance to break it in. "Where will I find it?"<br>"Well, we sent someone after it once before. It was being displayed in a noble's castle, and the security was just too tight. It's being moved, though. Tomorrow."  
>"Tomorrow? That's rather short notice."<br>"Have to learn to think on your feet in this line of work, lass." He crossed his arms and continued, "It's being moved to Solitude to be presented as a gift. The man who owns it seems to fancy one of the noble women there."  
>"That's quite a courting gift."<p>

Brynjolf shrugged. "The only thing that's more important to the man than money is women, it seems..." He jabbed a thumb behind him, saying "Vex knows the details. I'm sending her with you for this job."  
>Veria's brows knit together with frustration. "You don't think I can handle it alone?"<br>"Just a bit of insurance," he said with a wave of his hand. Veria didn't buy it. He continued, "You're going to need a bit of help on this one, trust me. I can tell when a job needs a team."  
>Veria shook her head. "Fine."<p>

He began to step away as he said, "I've got business to attend to. Don't disappoint me, Wisp."  
>"...Wraith."<br>"Sure."  
>And with that, he was gone. Veria rolled her eyes and sternly reminded herself that her name was Wraith.<p>

So, when she approached Vex she was pleased when the woman addressed her as such.  
>"You're Wraith, right? Brynjolf's new protege? " Brynjolf's description of the woman was spot on; she was pale in the pigment of her skin and hair, and even her eyes seemed almost white. Her dark, worn leather armor was a beautiful contrast to her ghostly complexion.<br>In response to the question, Veria nodded and said, "That's right. You and I are supposed to work together."  
>"Huh," Vex huffed and pulled away from the crates on which she was leaning casually. "Let's get one thing straight," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm the best damn infiltrator they got in this rathole of a guild, got that? So if you think you're here to replace me, you're <em>dead wrong<em>."

Veria stifled a smile. This woman really had no idea who she was talking to. Without waiting for a response, Vex continued, "I know a lot more about this business than you do, rookie. So when we head out, you do as I say. No questions or excuses, got it?"  
>Veria crossed her arms and said, "Understood."<br>The hint of sarcasm was obvious in her response, but Vex detected enough genuine respect that she ignored it. It was true; Veria liked Vex. She was beautiful, tough, and was obviously a very capable thief. Her no-nonsense attitude reminded Veria little of herself. The only difference between them, really, was their rank in the Guild.

"Let's get going, then," Vex said. "That convoy isn't going to wait for us. We can go over details on the way."

* * *

><p>According to Vex, the convoy consisted of a single caravan and a line of guards walking on either side of it. Not quite an army, but nothing to sneeze at either. By the time they were on the road it had already left a well-fortified estate somewhere near Helgen and was heading West, bound for Solitude. Vex guessed they could catch up to them before they cleared the Falkreath hold, and that they should set up their ambush just inside the Reach.<br>"How about Rorikstead?" Veria suggested. "If they just left Helgen, it's likely that they won't be tired enough to stop in Falkreath. They'll reach Rorikstead in the dead of night. We could use the darkness to our advantage."

"That's what I was thinking, too. If we screw up, we can retreat to the Reach and wait for them to enter the mountain roads. We'd be eye-deep in fog and Oblivion knows it's easier seeing through murky water."  
>Veria nodded. "We should pick up the pace a little, then. If we can get a hold of some horses, we can take the road through Helgen and cut through Whiterun to reach Rorikstead a few hours before they do."<br>Vex nodded. "Already handled. I've got a pair of stallions tucked away just for us." As they mounted the horses and prepared to head down the road, Vex said, "Maybe you're not as much a rookie as I made you out to be, Wraith. Brynjolf might be right about you after all."

Without giving Veria time to rub it in, Vex whipped the reins and took off down the road on a steed almost as pale as she was. Veria followed suit, and they rode as fast as they could without wearing down their mounts. Their pace finally slowed as they turned at a fork near Lake Geir and picked their way through a sloping mountain road. They didn't speak much, but Veria appreciated the quiet as she listened to the dead mountain air slide by her ears. She was even more thankful that they weren't riding through Falkreath.

"Thank _Gods_ we aren't riding through Falkreath," Vex said suddenly. Veria raised an eyebrow and asked, "You dislike the place?"  
>"Gives me the creeps is what it does," Her horse tossed its head and Vex pulled on the reins to make it cooperate. "Every time I'm there I see something weird. Not to mention tales of werewolves and vampires and hagravens stalking the place. I wouldn't be surprised if the Dark Brotherhood made base there, too."<br>Veria's fingers tightening around the reins. "Oh? What do you know of the Dark Brotherhood?"

"I know we aren't the only ones in Maven Black-Briar's pocket." At Veria's questioning glance, she explained, "We watch Maven's back, and she watches ours, simple as that. It's a productive business arrangement. Nothing goes on in Riften without her say so, and when someone needs discipline she calls on us. And if someone makes her angry, I hear she'll contact her friends in the Brotherhood."  
>"That must be a bluff," <em>This is the first I've heard of her.<em>

"Bluff or not, she always follows through on her threats. No one crosses her."  
>Veria nodded, and thought Maven must have made her friends in recent years, after Veria had left. Either that, or it really was a bluff to scare her enemies. Veria made a note to meet this Black-Briar woman whenever the Mercer would allow her a free moment.<p>

* * *

><p>The day stretched on as they traveled across the rocky, sloping road. The stallions were wearing thin, and twice they had to stop to rest for a few moments. By sundown, Rorikstead was in sight. They tied up their mounts at a small stable and stood a moment to catch their breath. As Veria fed and watered the horses, Vex ducked inside the inn. When she returned, she carried with her two loaves of bread, two apples, and a small coin purse.<br>Veria raised her eyebrow and Vex said casually, "There was an old drunk not paying attention to his pockets. Figured it wouldn't hurt." She tossed Veria some food and continued, "They haven't arrived yet. We made it just in time for some food and a short rest."

As they ate, Veria turned over the plan in her mind. They had worked it out on the journey, and she couldn't help but get excited. She had never been a proper player in a heist before, and she was eager to test her skills as a thief.  
>When they finished, they saddled their horses and rode off as if they were continuing North to the Reach, but turned off the main road as the hill blocked their view of Rorikstead. They secured the horses near a small stand of trees and crept their way back to the town.<p>

Wordlessly they carried out the plans laid out beforehand, and as far as anyone in Rorikstead knew, it was just an average night. Vex and Veria split and went to move into position. Vex disappeared behind the inn, and Veria ducked into the cover of some thick bushes near the road. It wasn't long until a trail of torches appeared on the road not far from town.  
>The convoy consisted of a single hooded caravan and two handfuls of guards, just as Vex said. They rolled to a stop in the middle of town not far from Veria's hiding place. The men stretched their arms and yawned, exhausted from the day's walk. Veria waited patiently.<p>

The caravan driver, an average-looking man that clearly had no experience fighting, was about to climb from his perch when a flash of light and loud popping noise blinded the group.  
>"What was that?" One of them cried as they drew their weapons. "Lightning? Magic"<br>"A flash bomb," said the leader. He was slightly older and more brawny than the rest, and had an ostentatious-looking cape to mark his rank among the guards. He fell back behind his ring of underlings, slinking closer to the caravan. "Don't let your guard down; trouble is afoot."

After a short moment of silence, he said, "We can't stay here. Move. Move!"  
>The driver whipped the reins and the horses tore off out of the town, the guards running close beside. What they didn't realize was that Veria was already among them. She was inside the caravan, quickly and quietly sifting through the contents in search of the fabled crystal dagger.<br>She opened the hinged lid of a small case and found it glimmering inside. With a mischievous smile, she shut the lid and tucked the case into her belt.

Suddenly, the caravan halted. There were muffled shouts from outside, and before Veria could prepare, the canvas flap of the caravan's hood was whipped open, and she was exposed in bright torchlight.  
>The guard could barely shout before she sent some small object she grabbed flying into his forehead. In this small moment of distraction she lunged forward, kicked and vaulted from the guard, and rolled to break her fall before darting off towards the darkness. It was an expert maneuver, but one of the men was too fast. Her wrist was caught in someone's fist, and her momentum betrayed her as she was wrenched backward.<p>

The struggle was a blur; Their hammers and blades swung at her, and it took everything she had just to dodge them. It was impossible to stop the case from slipping out of her belt. She wasn't quick enough to keep its lid from flying open, and she was far too slow to stop the boot of a careless guard. She heard the shattering sound, and knew that was the end of that. All she could do now was try to make it out alive, but with her ever-weakening body and rising frustration, it wasn't looking good.

Another flash bomb suddenly went off behind her, and in a wave of distraction that felt heavens-sent Veria slipped through their ranks an into the shadows. She wasted no time; when she was out of view she immediately melted into the darkness and put as much distance between her and the caravan as she could. Just to be safe, she doubled back a few times in case someone was following her.

An hour later, she found Vex brushing their horses' hair where had hidden them away. She looked calm and unfazed, but Veria was furious. Fists clenched, sweat beading around her brow, Veria fought back furious tears as she said, "It broke...The damn thing _broke_!"  
>Vex cocked a brow and said, "What? You mean this thing?" She held up a small case. Smaller than Veria's was; it was barely bigger than Vex's hand.<br>"Wh-"  
>Vex tilted the lid open to reveal a small shining dagger that glimmered like starlight in her palm. It was infinitely more beautiful than Veria had realized.<br>"What in bleeding Oblivion is that, Vex?" Veria was practically shaking with anger, for she already had a pretty good idea what had happened.

"Isn't it obvious?" Vex said, shutting the lid carefully. As she wrapped it in thick layers of cloth she continued, "The dagger in the caravan was a decoy. That idiot in the cape was carrying the real one. Didn't you see how he was hiding behind his thugs?"  
>"Vex...Don't tell me that you knew this from the start."<br>Vex furrowed her brow and said matter-of-factly, "Of course I did Wraith. What, don't tell me you're mad."  
>Veria's fists were iron and she struggled to keep them from flinging into Vex's face. "I'm angry. I'm so angry."<p>

Vex secured the cloth-wrapped dagger case in her side pocket. "Don't be childish." She untied her horse and mounted and Veria did the same, stifling grumbles of annoyance.  
>As they rose across the tundra, she grumbled, "You could have told me it was a decoy."<br>"Are you still pouting? Look, if I told you that I was sending you to steal the decoy-  
>"To <em>BE<em> a decoy!"  
>"Exactly, to steal a decoy and <em>be<em> a decoy...well more like a diversion..., then you would have gotten all hot-headed and tried to go after the real one just to prove yourself. Don't even try telling me you wouldn't have."  
>Veria simply turned her head away and tried to fight back angry tears. <em>Don't you dare<em>, she told herself. _You are Wraith, dammit. And Wraiths don't cry like children_.

* * *

><p>They took the long way back to Riften, just in case they were being tracked. It wasn't until morning that they finally stopped to rest just east of Whiterun near the White River. Veria had finally cooled into begrudging silence as she sat near the riverbank and watched the horses drink.<br>Vex appeared beside her and took a seat.

"You're not still mad, are you? Don't get so upset over stupid things." She picked up a smooth stone and whipped it towards the water where it skipped several times on the glassy surface before sinking. "Listen, we both played our parts brilliantly. I did my job, and you did yours. As far as I'm concerned, you've proven yourself. Now stop sulking."  
>Veria's expression didn't change and she gave no indication that she heard a word Vex said. She simply continued to stare into the river's depths, and Vex huffed in annoyance. When she began to rise from her spot on the grass, Veria spoke and stopped her.<p>

"I had a different life before," she said. "Once I was made to help in a heist. I was the bait; the distraction. It was easy, but I took no joy in it. I didn't choose that life for myself. It was a dark time..." Veria scowled and said, "That woman died. I killed her so I could live differently. I'm so _sick_ of being bait for weak-willed men." Finally she turned on Vex with eyes so poisonous it sent a chill down her spine.

"I understand why you didn't tell me, Vex," she said. "But let me make this perfectly clear: Never again will I be bait. Understand?"  
>Vex showed no sign of intimidation, but instead seemed to find a small measure of respect for the woman sitting beside her. She simply nodded once.<br>"Understood."


	13. Chapter 13

They took the northern road and slowly wound around the Throat of the World towards Eastmarch. Veria was steely but no longer angry. They spoke every so often, making comments about the things they passed and briefly sharing with each other what the other might not know about them. Soon the pines gave way to volcanic earth and smoking streams. Several times they had to walk their horses carefully along where the road fragmented among steaming rifts in the earth.

Finally, they were approaching the southern edge when Vex suddenly guided them off the path. Not questioning where they were going, Veria followed her to a collection of colorful pools. The water was bright and murky with minerals and steam rose lazily from the surface. Vex was tying up her horse when she said, "Let's stop for a while. I'm covered in filth from the road and we'll never hear the end of it if Delvin sees us come in smelling like Skeever scum."

"You want to bathe? Here?" Vex was already removing her armor and stacking it neatly by a dead tree.  
>"Sure," she said. "The waters here are heated by the earth. Whenever I'm in the area I like to take advantage of it." Finally bare of any and all clothing, she slipped into to waters of the pool and sunk to her collar bone. She sighed and leaned her head against the edge. She glanced over to Veria still standing by the horses. "You just gonna stand there all day? Suit yourself. I'm going to be a minute."<p>

Veria glanced over herself. She was covered in dust from the road, and she felt rough. A bath would do her some good, she thought, and she had never bathed in a hot spring before. She unbuckled her armor and placed it near Vex's along with her undergarments. Cautiously, she slipped into the water next the pale thief.  
>The water was surprisingly warm, almost as hot as a fresh kettle of tea. She was so used to bathing in chilly rivers that she had never considered what warm water would feel like.<br>"This is quite nice," she admitted, resting her back on the rocky walls of the pool. The heat seeped into her tired muscles, and the fatigue of the long journey slowly loosened its grip on her.

They sat together in silence for a while until Vex said, "So why do you call yourself Wraith?"  
>Veria didn't answer right away. She chose her words carefully and said, "It's like I said before. The person I was died."<br>"Maul said you looked about ready to give up the ghost when you stumbled into our little town." Vex sat up a little straighter and rested her elbows on the edge of the pool.  
>"It's true. I felt Oblivion at my back," Veria said quietly. "It's fiery gaze was boring into me. But...It was a long time coming. I died long before that day."<br>Vex tilted her head towards her. "And you haven't come back to life yet?"  
>"That is my goal. I'll take a new name when I find a reason to."<p>

Vex sighed and crossed her arms behind her head. "I wish I could sympathize, but the truth is my life hasn't been that hard." He leaned her head back and glanced over the clouds. "I was an orphan running around the streets of Solitude, sure. But that's where I first learned to steal. I lived on the road for a while, took a few odd jobs. Mostly to keep myself fed I sneaked around farmhouses and city homes. I joined the Guild when I made the mistake of trying to pick Mercer's pocket."  
>"Really? I had a similar run-in with Brynjolf."<br>Vex chuckled. "Oh, I _wish_ it had been Brynjolf. Mercer had me thrown in jail for a few days before offering me a chance in the Guild."  
>"He likes to discipline, does he?" Veria grumbled.<br>"He's a little older and wiser nowadays. I don't think he feels the need to be so brash now."

Vex glanced at Veria and said. "Hmph. You ever notice how you and Brynjolf have almost the exact same hair color?" She reached forward and delicately took a lock of Veria's hair in her fingers. "Even wet it shines like copper."  
>"Don't be jealous, Vex," Veria teased. "It's unbecoming."<br>"I'm a thief. I'm attracted to the uncommon." She was closer than before; Veria could feel her leg touching hers under the water.  
>"Don't sell yourself short," Veria said. "I've never seen anyone with hair as white as yours."<br>Vex pressed a paranoid palm into her thin cheek. "Huh. I look like a Wispmother..."  
>"I think it's lovely. Like fresh snow."<p>

Vex rolled her eyes but a smile played on the corner of her mouth. She weaved her fingers through the gleaming white mane. "You want to touch it?" She asked.  
>"Only if you promise not to make me bait again."<br>"Ha. I promise."

Veria slid her fingers into Vex's damp hair. Even wet, it was as bright as starlight. Her skin, hot from the volcanic bath, was just as ghostly. Veria's hand slid down her face and settled on her breast.  
>Vex turned and leaned towards her, resting her palms on Veria's waist. She slid her leg over Veria's and straddled her. Her pale breasts, slightly smaller but as perfect as the sculpted bust of Dibella, pressed into Veria's. She could feel the flesh of Vex's thighs spreading over her hips, and heat that had nothing to do with the water rushed to her cheeks. Even Vex's normally washed complexion flushed with faint scarlet.<p>

She arched her back, and their breasts swelled slightly with the pressure. Veria sighed as Vex's palms slid down her waist under the water. Vex's left knee tucked under Veria's right thigh, and she rested her right leg on top of Veria's right.  
>Veria's fingers dug into Vex's back. At Vex's movement, she arched backward with a heavy sigh. The water of the pool felt like it was getting hotter against her skin. As the steam rose she closed her eyes and let it cloud her mind.<p>

* * *

><p>When they finally found their way southward into the Rift, the sun was edging towards the horizon. Sunset was a few hours off still, and there was no doubt they'd arrive in Riften before nightfall. They rode together in silence, their mounts trotting at a brisk pace. Up ahead, Veria could see Shor's Stone, a tiny mining hamlet, peeking around the edge of the mountain. They'd reach it within the hour. A little bored, Veria reviewed the last few hours in her head.<p>

"One time thing, understand?" Vex had said sternly when they were pulling their clothes on back at the spring. She was almost defensive. "And not a word to anyone, got it?"  
>"I don't know what you're referring to," Veria said flatly, mounting her horse.<br>"That's right."

And that was that. They continued on like nothing had happened, and Veria didn't mind it in the least. It was the first time she had let someone touch her like that in ages, and the first time with another woman. She like Vex, of course, but she felt no more fondness for her than that of a business partner. She was a fellow thief, nothing more. Their exchange in the hot springs was nothing more than a sort of business transaction. A token. It reminded Veria briefly of her girlhood in Windhelm, quietly seducing weak-willed men for sport. She was young and stupid then, and they weren't the best of her years. It was a time she'd sooner forget.

The men of Shor's Stone didn't pay them any mind as they passed through. Veria glanced around and saw them busy with chunks of unrefined iron from Redbelly Mine. They were all far more concerned with work than two travelers, so Veria and Vex passed through without a word to anyone.  
>When they finally secured their horses in the stable and wandered their way to the Riften graveyard, the sun was beginning to set. After making sure no one was watching, they slipped into a secret entrance hidden under a tomb. In the darkness they descended until finally emerging into the Cistern.<p>

"_There_ you are." Mercer appeared with arms crossed. He was not welcoming. "You two took long enough. Take a detour, did you?"  
>Vex began unwrapping the dagger case saying, "Don't get your panties in a bunch, Mercer. Here, we have it." Vex pushed the small case into Mercer's hands. He lifted the cover to confirm its contents. Upon laying eyes on the glimmering object, he neither smiled nor showed any sign of gratitude or pride. He simply closed the lid and said flatly, "Very good. I'd expect nothing less from you, Vex."<p>

"Don't thank me," she jabbed a thumb towards Veria. "The heist would've burned if it hadn't been for our new recruit here."  
>Mercer raised a skeptical brow and peered at Veria. She glanced towards Vex but kept her surprise concealed. Vex continued, "I hate to admit it but..." she sighed, "Credit where credit is due. Wraith made the whole thing possible."<br>"Hmph." Mercer tucked the case under his arm and said, "Perhaps you weren't such a waste of time after all...Wraith. " He turned and headed for the vault, leaving Vex and Veria standing alone near the edge of the reservoir.

"Vex."  
>"What?" She placed her hands on her hips and turned towards Veria. She looked as cold as ever. Her words to Mercer had been an exaggeration, that much was obvious, and Veria wasn't about to insult her with grateful words. So she said, "I'm told you can get me some extra jobs."<br>Unsmiling, Vex replied, "Let me take a nap first. Talk to me in a few hours and I might have something up your alley."  
>Veria nodded and let Vex walk off alone.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Veria's slept longer than usual, but rest eluded her as she was barraged with unsettling dreams. Despite their painful vibrancy there was only one that she remembered after waking. At first it was Vex; her touch, her scent, the delicate color of her skin, and the bite of her tongue. Steam rose around their bodies, wrapping them in its hot embrace, and for a moment Veria thought she had found an enjoyable dream reliving the pleasurable transaction from a few hours prior.

But then the water shifted, and Veria opened her eyes to see Tulian standing in the water just out of reach. Their eyes met, and he looked on sadly as Vex worked her lips down Veria's neck. Veria immediately pushed her away, but her arms passed through her body and suddenly Vex was a Wispmother. Her gentle face fractured into a terrifying visage of sharp teeth and ghostly eyes. Her screech filled the air and pierced into Veria's mind so violently her eyesight blurred and darkened. She clutched her head as if to keep it from splitting in two. Tulian vanished from her sight, and in the instant before she woke she heard a whisper. It was so quiet it should not have been heard above the shrieking Wispmother, but it echoed in Veria's ears all the same.  
>In a soft, gentle tone, it said, "Wake," and Veria rose from her sleep with a start.<p>

Thrynn, a hardened bandit-turned-thief was sitting nearby and was startled by Veria's sudden movement. He nodded her way and asked, "Bad dream?"  
>Veria simply sat up and grumbled in reply, expertly concealing her trembling bones. Thrynn, only mildly interested, turned back to sharpening his blade on the grindstone. Veria scowled at him, recognizing the grinding shriek of the metal on the stone.<p>

Not willing to dwell it any longer, she rose from her bed drank in the sight of the Cistern. The light streaming from the well opening in the ceiling was tinged with pink and swimming with mist; morning. She headed for the Ragged Flagon in search of something to eat.  
>When she entered, she was greeted with a barrage of yelling. She stopped short in reflex and took in the situation.<p>

Delvin was livid. It seemed so out of character for him to be so excited that Veria had to stare at him a few extra seconds to make sure it was him. He was conversing with Mercer, who much better composed. He had just come back from a journey on the road, as evidenced by the dust on his leathers. Veria approached a table and plucked a loaf of bread from an abandoned plate. Mercer and Delvin glanced toward her, a brief pause in their conversation.

Veria tore the bread in half and asked, "What's happened?"  
>"We've been bloody cheated, that's what!" Delvin snarled.<br>"Delvin, please," Mercer said. "Calm down."  
>Delvin ran a hand over his head and tried to compose himself. "He cut us out."<p>

Veria swallowed a mouthful of bread as Mercer's expression deepened into a scowl.  
>Mercer said, "I went to the contact like planned. We agreed half payment before the heist, half after. But when I arrived he had already commissioned another thief to pull the heist."<br>"Who?" Delvin asked.  
>"I don't know. I had half a mind to beat the name out of that fool, but he was smart. We were in a public place and there were too many eyes on me."<br>"What of Chillrend itself?" Delvin said hopefully. "Can we beat him to it?"  
>"I had the same thought, but the guards were in a frenzy when I arrived there. It was already gone."<br>"Damn..."

Veria swallowed another bit of bread and asked, "Chillrend?"  
>"It's an enchanted glass sword," Delvin explained. "Godlike craftsmanship; very valuable. We were supposed to lift it from the estate where it was being held and fence it for the client."<br>"But someone swooped in and cut us out of the deal?"  
>"Exactly," Mercer said.<br>"What do we do?"

Mercer sighed, apparently fatigued. "Not much we can do except ask around about this thief. Maybe we can identify him. And put that fool on our blacklist, Delvin. Refuse to do business with him again." He eased away from the group and headed for the Cistern.  
>"Yessir," Delvin grumbled. The door swung closed and he sighed heavily.<br>"This is serious, huh?" Veria asked.  
>Delvin nodded. "Afraid so, love. Not only did we lose a sizable commission, but our reputation was damaged as well. Just the fact that the contact thought it was a small thing to pull out of a deal with the Thieves Guild is a big problem."<br>"The Guild isn't doing so well, is it?"

Delvin sighed heavily. "We'll turn it around. Just a round of bad luck, is all. Soon this place will be just as lively as it was in the old days." He motioned to the other side of the cavern, to the empty nooks in the walls. "See those spaces over there? Used to be full of merchants and shops. Thieves and clients from across Tamriel came here for our little black market."  
>"What's your plan to bring them back?"<br>Delvin chuckled. "One step at a time, love. I'll have more jobs for you soon enough."  
>So in other words, Veria thought, he had no idea what to do about it.<p>

Veria finished her bread and bid Delvin goodbye. She was bored, and wanted work. She ducked back into the Cistern and located Vex near the training area.  
>"Look who it is," Vex said in a neutral tone. "Looking for something to do, Wraith?"<br>"What to you have for me, Vex?"  
>Vex crossed her arms and got to business. "I've got a few burglary jobs lined up. I'll start you off on something easy."<br>"Ha!" Veria planted fist on her hip. "Don't insult me, Vex. I want your toughest job."  
>Vex shrugged. "If you say so. Don't blame me if it proves too much for you."<p>

She fished a small stack of notes from her pocket and sifted through them, finally plucking one free and holding it out to Veria. "Here are the details," she said. "If you find anything else of value while your out, don't hesitate to snatch it up for us."  
>Veria was just about to close her fingers around it when suddenly a voice slithered between them, "Already looking for more action, lass?"<p>

Veria rolled her eyes as Brynjolf clamped an encouraging hand on her shoulder. "Good for you! Where are you sending her, Vex?"  
>Veria already had the note open and answered for her, "The Praxem estate, in Markarth..."<br>At this Brynjolf released her shoulder and touched his chin thoughtfully. "That so?" He sounded a little surprised. "You wouldn't even give Cynric that job when he asked for it, Vex."  
>"Wraith demanded that I give her something challenging. Plus would <em>you<em> give Cynric the Praxem job? After losing the dagger?"  
>Brynjolf looked as if he understood her point, but didn't care to admit it. Veria didn't want to waste any more time, and started towards the door. "I'll be on my way, then," she said. "I'll be back within the week."<br>"Hey, lass-" She turned the corner and left the training room behind before he had a chance to finish.

But her victory was short lived. When she approached the Riften stables in search of a mount, he was already there waiting.  
>She groaned loudly with annoyance. "Brynolf. What are you doing here?"<br>He flashed a playful smile as he led two horses from the stable. "Isn't it obvious?" He said. "I'm tagging along."  
>Veria frowned. "Doesn't Mercer trust me yet? I can do this job on my own."<p>

Brynjolf pushed a pair of reins into her hands and said, "Mercer's got nothing to do with it, lass. I want to see your skills for myself, and there's still plenty about the Guild you don't know yet." He quickly mounted his horse and flashed another smile. "It's a long way to Markarth, too. You could use an escort."  
>Veria mounted her horse and immediately tore down the road, calling, "We'll see who's escorting who," as she passed him.<br>She heard him laugh and call, "Lead the way, Wisp!"

Veria gritted her teeth and felt her grip around the reins tighten. _What a pest,_ she thought.


	15. Chapter 15

Veria pushed her steed halfway to Helgen before she was forced to slow in favor of the poor creature's health. Much to her dismay, Brynjolf finally had a chance to ride alongside her.  
>"Your stamina is impressive," he panted with a smile. "That horse is no match for you." When she didn't respond he cleared his throat and adjusted his grip on the reins. He returned his voice to a business-like cadence. "Helgen isn't far off. I say we'll reach Markarth by sunrise tomorrow."<p>

Veria grunted in agreement and they continued on in silence. Bryjolf seemed to finally notice her cold disposition and let her be for the next few hours. He didn't speak again until they were passing through Falkreath.  
>"Let's let the horses rest a moment," he said, slowing his mount. He hopped to the ground and secured the reins just outside the inn, and Veria followed suit. He said, "Say, Wisp-"<br>"Why must you always mock me, Brynjolf?" She snapped. "If you respect me at all, call me by my name."  
>Brynjolf cracked a half-smile at her frustration but raised his hands in defeat. "Wraith, then...I was just going to ask...do you believe the tale that Markarth was made by some ancient race?"<br>Veria sighed and tightened the reins around the post. "That's what they say," she said absently. "The architecture there supports the theory, I suppose."

He touched his chin thoughtfully. "No doubt there are plenty of old artifacts there. Plenty of collectors will pay a handsome price for such things."  
>"I know a few places there that might have something good. We'll take stock of the place when we get there."<br>Veria suddenly felt him pat her arm once. "Look there," he muttered.

She followed his gaze to the door of the inn. It took her moment to realize he was directing her attention to a small symbol carved haphazardly into the threshold. It was a circle inside which was carved a square divided into smaller horizontal slices.  
>"That's what we call a Shadowmark..." Brynjolf said quietly. "It's a little code we use...this symbol means there's something valuable inside." He patted her on the shoulder. "I'll be but a moment."<br>Before Veria could protest he was already slipping inside. She waited no more than five minutes before he slipped casually back out to his horse.

He calmly untied the reins but Veria could tell he had just made a pick and was looking to get out of there as fast as he could. She casually followed suit and they left Falkreath without so much as a glance their way. When they were a safe distance a way she looked toward him. "So? Any luck?"  
>Brynjolf pulled something shiny out of his side pouch and tossed it to her. She turned over the object in her hand as the horse plodded on. It was a silver amulet with a large emerald fixed in the center. Arcane patterns surrounded the edge and the whole thing felt slightly warmer than it should against her skin.<p>

"This thing is enchanted," she muttered.  
>"I have a friend over at the College of Winterhold who can appraise it for us. The craftsmanship of the silver alone is worth enough to feed the whole guild for a month, I'd say."<br>She tossed the amulet back to him and he secured it safely inside his pack, wrapped in some inconspicuous cloth. "Who knew a simple innkeeper would have such a thing?" he continued.  
>"Falkreath is full of its eerie little secrets," Veria said. "This whole area sets my teeth on edge. Let's continue and stop in the Reach instead."<p>

She flicked the reins and trotted ahead, and Brynjolf followed without comment.

* * *

><p>Conversation was scarce the rest of the journey. Veria let the forests slide by without so much as a glance toward them. She kept her gaze focused on the road, and remained so until they emerged into the mists of the Reach. Brynjolf, who she could feel watching her closely, noticed her nerves slowly unwind as Falkreath fell further and further behind. He didn't speak until they were halfway through the mountains, and then it was all business.<p>

"So, lass, what's your plan? What do you need me to do?" She shot him a harsh but quizzical look, and responded "It's your job. If you want me out of the way, just say so."  
>Veria turned back toward the road and deliberated on her response for a moment. Finally she said, "What do you know about the Praxem estate?"<br>"Scouts only gave us the tip about the place recently," he said soberly. "I've never seen the place myself, but it's apparently owned by some nobleman who owns half the mines in Skyrim and some in Cyrodiil. Fancies himself a jewel collector."  
>"Why has no one taken it until now?"<br>Bedrel scratched his neck and continued, "The man's home is apparently carved right into the highest cliffs in Markarth. Getting to it without getting noticed by the guards he employs is a feat itself. We can't quite know what we'll find once we get inside, either."  
>Veria was mulling over all the facts when Brynjolf suddenly stopped his horse.<p>

"Bryjolf what's-"  
>"Shh!" He tilted his head to catch the faint sound of a pulsating chime.<br>He hopped off his horse and trotted over to a nearby stream. He glanced this way and that before spotting a flowing fern-like plant growing in the mud.  
>Veria rolled her eyes. "Nirnroot? We're stopping for a cut of Nirnroot?"<br>"Hey now," Brynjolf drew his dagger and began to pry the plant from the earth. "Don't judge a man by the plants he fancies." He lifted the herb from the dirt, and it immediately fell silent. As he packed it gently into his side pack and turned back to the horses, he caught Veria glancing backward down the road to Falkreath.

"Looking for something?" He said. She frowned and flicked the reins in response. Brynjolf alighted and followed suit before she could trot too far. "What is it about Falkreath that unsettles you so much?"  
>Veria clenched her teeth. <em>Bold bastard, isn't he...<em> she thought. "What is it about Nirnroot that gets you so excited?" She spat back.  
>He chuckled in response and said, "I myself don't find them very attractive...I overheard Maven's daughter asking about where to find some Nirnroot to replenish her mentor's stocks. I thought maybe I could assist."<br>"Doesn't seem safe."  
>Brynolf cocked an eyebrow. "Hm?"<br>"To be sweet on a Blackbriar, I mean."

He suddenly laughed so loud that Veria nearly fell of her horse in surprise. "No, no," he said hurriedly through chuckles. "Maven would have my head in an instant. I just thought it would be a good idea to be on the good side of as many Blackbriars as possible."  
>"I don't recall ever meeting Maven's daughter."<br>"Little Ingun doesn't care for her family's...business. She's cooped up in that alchemist's shop every day...now that I think of it, she might not take too kindly to a member of the Thieve's Guild offering her assistance..."

Veria couldn't help but jab at him, "Interesting you didn't think of that before diving off your horse for that root."  
>Brynjolf chuckled awkwardly. "Now, lass..."<br>"You fancy her." He tried to protest but she continued, "Don't worry. I'll break the news to Maven as soon as we get back."  
>He laughed but couldn't quell a panicked reaction, "Don't go joking about that now, lass! Maven would <em>really<em> have my head if she even thought-"  
>Veria's mouth crooked slightly into a single snicker.<p>

A mischievous smile suddenly crossed Brynjolf's face. "Was that a laugh, lass?" She merely shrugged in response. "How about that. The Wraith can laugh."  
>Veria rolled her eyes and pressed on. "We'll be there soon," she said.<p>

* * *

><p>Markarth was exactly the same as it was the last time Veria visited. The first thing they did after securing their horses in the stables was take a casual walk around the city, each eating a share of bread as they went. No one noticed them or their wandering eyes prying every corner for signs of valuables. They had worked their way to some of the highest roads when Brynjolf paused.<br>"Temple of Dibella," he said, glancing over a pair of large brass doors. "Could be a thing or two in there."  
>"They have some statues, but nothing incredibly valuable."<br>He raised an eyebrow at her and said, "You've been inside before?"  
>Veria rolled her eyes and pressed on. "C'mon," she said. "We have a job to do."<p>

The Praxem estate was built upon the cliffs and it took quite a bit of climbing to even get a good look at it. In the tallest tower accessible by the city roads, Brynolf and Veria peered at it through squinted eyes. They studied as much as they could, and determined that it would be best to go in at night. As they discussed possible approaches, Veria insisted that she do the job entirely on her own, and Brynjolf did not press her. He listened quietly as she formed a plan, interrupting only a few times to give suggestions.  
>Before she knew it, the sun was setting. She adjusted the hood of her cloak around her face and said, "I'm off. Don't follow me." He responded with a crooked smile and a playful wave. She rolled her eyes and left him alone in the tower.<p>

The job was finished before the moons reached their apex. Veria left Markarth through the front gates and rounded back, approaching from the north. She scaled a few cliffs and leaped across crevasses to be able to approach the estate from the safest angle. She slipped inside through an unlocked window and immediately began the burglary. She pocketed anything and everything that looked valuable, starting with a large collection of jewels being displayed in a glass case. The lock was masterfully crafted but took her only a few minutes to crack. Gold, silver, emeralds, rubies; all manner of ornate jewelries were stuffed swiftly into her pouch.

When every pocket was brimming, she took her leave through a sewage drain. She was too burdened by her haul and didn't want to risk climbing down the mountain, so she crawled through the drains until it dumped her into a stream heading downhill not far from the estate. Stinking to the heavens but otherwise in good spirits, she picked her way down the mountain, stopping once to rinse herself and the jewels in a freezing pond. Despite this precaution, Brynjolf grimaced at her when she finally arrived at the stables just before sunrise.  
>"By the Nine, lass," he jabbed. "Were you recently raised from the dead?"<br>She shot him a single scowl and mounted her horse. "Let's go," she said quietly. Brynjolf perfectly understood the small note of urgency in her voice, and rode after her without a word. When they were halfway back to Whiterun Hold, she steered them suddenly off the path and to a hidden clearing in the rocks. A river swelled nearby, forming a small lake. She removed her bags and pouches and set them on the ground. She opened them for the first time in hours and took stock of her haul.

Veria heard Brynjolf release a long whistle. "I'm impressed, lass," he said. "Looks like quite a haul." She quickly resealed the bags without any comment, but he continued, "You really are an asset to the Guild, after all."  
>"Was it really so hard to believe?" She grumbled.<br>He shook his head at her stubbornness. He wondered what made her so cold. "Well," he said, clearing his throat. "You stink to the heavens. We should take a moment to rest and wash up."  
>Veria's grip stiffened, and she tightened the buckles of the pouches in her hands. "You rest over there," she pointed to a boulder not far from where they sat. "I'll wash."<p>

At the edge of the pond she began removing her leather armor. She glanced back to Brynjolf sitting against the boulder, casually watching the sky above her head. He noticed her scowling venomously at him. "What?" He said.  
>"Other side," she spat with a jab of her finger.<br>"Oh, oh," he said, as if he didn't realize her qualm. "Of course." He shifted until his back was against the other side of the boulder, and he was completely out of sight. Veria sighed in annoyance, and suddenly felt exhausted.

What he was doing was obvious, and if it were a different time, she might have taken advantage of his interest. She grumbled in annoyance. _I've been nothing but cold to him_, she thought. _Precisely to avoid this kind of thing_. She sunk into the cold water seconds after stripping her final garment. _What a bother_.


	16. Chapter 16

When they finally arrived back in Riften, it was raining. Veria didn't mind; it was a welcome suited to a city like Riften. She lowered her hood and let the rain wash the dust from her hair as they dismounted and secured their horses at the stable. Brynjolf tightened his cloak around himself. "Blast this rain," he said. "Let's get back to the Cistern and warm up with a mug of mead."  
>Veria merely grunted in response, and they trudged together through the back roads to the graveyard. They descended into the largest tomb, making sure to shut the lid behind them. They followed the dark, damp tunnel to the Cistern. Vex was counting septims in the tavern.<p>

"Well, well, well," she said as they approached. "Back already? I told you it'd be too much for you."  
>Veria narrowed an eye at her and tossed her bag on the table. "Don't speak so soon, Vex."<br>The pale thief raised an eyebrow and rummaged through the bag, betraying not a thread of her icy disposition. However, after looking through the bag, she did say "I admit, this is impressive. I'll have this all fenced by tomorrow evening." She drew a small money pouch from her pocket and tossed to Veria, who caught it expertly. "A small reward for your trouble. You'll have a full cut of the profits when these rocks are sold."

Veria merely nodded and pocketed the money. A hand clapped itself to her shoulder and she rolled her eyes; she had forgotten he was there.  
>"The lass was a real professional," Brynjolf said. "She was in and out before anyone knew she was there. She might just be my go-to burglar from now on."<br>Vex rolled her eyes and said, "As if. There's still no one better than me at those kinds of jobs."  
>Veria shook her shoulder free and jabbed, "Don't you have anything better to do, Brynjolf? I've just about enough of you shadowing me."<br>He merely chuckled and said, "As it happens, I do have to talk with Mercer." He offered a casual salute. "Until next time, ladies." Neither Vex nor Veria offered any response as he turned and left the Ragged Flagon to the inner cistern.

Veria grunted in annoyance and poured herself a tall mug of wine from an unattended bottle. She drank, and Vex said, "How long are you going to let him follow you around?"  
>"Trust me, I tried to get rid of him. He's too stubborn."<br>"He'll just keep tailing you until you give him a straight answer." Veria raised an eyebrow, and Vex continued, "Come on. You must have noticed by now that he fancies you."  
>Veria groaned and took another drink of her wine, but hesitated with her response.<br>"Look," Vex said. "You can do whatever you want. I'm just letting you know, he's not going to give up easily."  
>Veria sighed and said, "Does this a lot, does he?"<p>

"Actually, no. Not really. He's usually too occupied with Guild business to bother. Not like Delvin. That weasel is always on the prowl."  
>Veria's mouth curled into a slight half-smile. "You sound as if you speak from experience," she said.<br>Vex rolled her eyes and groaned with disgust. "Just keep an eye out when taking a bath, Wraith. Bastard has a habit of spying on me." She rose from her seat, the jewel-laden bag in hand. "I'm off to fence these. Go and have a good rest. You earned it."

* * *

><p>The next morning, Brynjolf was pouring over a stack of parchment in the Cistern, discussing a job with Sapphire, a Nord woman who insisted on being called something silly in stead of a proper name. Their conversation was interrupted by a loud sneeze. Brynjolf looked up to find Wraith standing at the door, freshly awoken and looking like death.<br>"My Gods, Wraith," he jested. "You're actually looking like your namesake today! Are you ill?"  
>She shuffled into Cistern. Her skin was pale and her eyes were dark. Her stance was wavering and she stood with an exhausted slouch. "I'm fine," she growled, clenching her fists. She turned to ignore him and started heading towards the door to the Ragged Flagon.<p>

Brynjolf felt fingers snapping in front of his face. "Brynjolf? Hello?" An annoyed Sapphire was waiting for him to respond. He gave her scolding look and handed her a scroll. She snatched it away and stormed off to do a simple job.  
><em>Is it all women that find me bothersome<em>, he thought, _or just the ones with aliases?_

* * *

><p>Veria was sitting in the Flagon with the rest of her body draped over the table. She felt like death. There was no way she'd be able to take a job like this. She planted her palms on the table and sat up. She jumped in surprise when she found Brynjolf sitting across from her.<br>"Dammit, Brynjolf," she muttered. _I didn't even notice him come in. I really must be ill._  
>"Are you ill?" He asked. She scowled at him and said in response, "I'm fine. None of your business."<br>"It is, actually. If a Guild member falls ill that's one less thief putting bread on the table."  
>"It's this damn place," she said. "Nothing but stinking water and damp walls. It's a miracle that everyone isn't ill."<br>Brynjolf raised an eyebrow. "Sure it wasn't the rain you were playing in yesterday?"  
>Veria suddenly stood, saying "I'll be right as rain by tonight. Don't you worry." She turned and left without another word, passing through the Cistern to the secret entrance in the graveyard. Brynjolf didn't chase after her.<p>

_Thank Sithis_, she thought. _He's leaving me alone for now_. She secured a travel cloak around her shoulders and tightened an inventory belt around her waist. There was a potion she knew how to make that would probably cure this cold of hers. She had never tried using it for illness before but with a few extra ingredients it might just do the trick.

Veria worked her way through the thin forest surrounding Riften, slowly picking through the bushes and undergrowth looking for the herbs she needed. As she rummaged through a bush growing at the base of a birch tree, she caught a scent on the wind. She rolled her eyes and tried to ignore it.  
>He must have noticed her sense him, because a moment later there came a hand from around the tree bearing a single sprig of lavender. "Looking for this?" He said.<p>

She glared at him as he emerged from his hiding place. "I don't need lavender," she said curtly, not even sparing a glance in his direction.  
>"What <em>are <em>you looking for, then, Wraith?" He leaned against the tree trunk and twirled the flower between his hands.  
>"Nothing you can give me." She gave up on the shrubs and walked away. Brynjolf followed.<br>"Lass..." Veria spotted some wheat growing nearby and started to harvest it in handfuls. It was as if he wasn't even there. He watched as she spotted a nearby tree and wandered towards it. The dark brown bark was marred with pale claw marks.

He followed her, and lingered nearby. "You're not the first to hunger for me, Brynjolf," Veria said without looking up. "I became weary of men's thirst years ago."  
>"My, you are bitter," He said in an amused tone. "But no, that's...that's not what I'm interested in." When she shot him an accusing look, he held his hands up and admitted, "That's not <em>all<em> I'm interested in."  
>Veria grunted in response. She wrapped her fingers around two fragments of bear claw that had been embedded into the dirt, and started on her way back to town. She barely had time to turn around before Brynolf caught her fist and held fast.<br>"Listen to me for a moment, please." He said. Veria was taken aback for a brief second and he didn't wait for her to recover her composure. "Anyone can see you're a beautiful woman. But there's more about you than that."

"You can't hide it, lass," he said. "I've seen it in your eyes since the day you tried to pick my pocket." His grip around her wrist tightened slightly. "You're barely living"  
>"What do you mean?"<br>"If I didn't know better, I'd say you've been to Oblivion and back, but... But you're trying to live again, aren't you?"  
>Veria didn't respond.<br>"I'm right, aren't I?"  
>She said blankly, "So what?"<p>

Brynjolf pressed both of his hands over hers. "Let me help you," he said.  
>"...And how do you propose to do that?"<br>He paused, then said, "I suppose...I just want to make you happy."  
>She decided suddenly to get straight to the point. "Are you in love with me, Brynjolf?"<br>He chuckled, "I wouldn't know, but...would you mind so much if I did?"

Veria suddenly felt as if she had received a punch in the chest. She had always been able to see past the lies men tell to beautiful women, but Brynjolf's words felt so genuine she couldn't help but be shocked by them. She would never have expected a thief to be so heartfelt.  
>"I..." she began without knowing what to say, and trailed off.<br>Before she could gather her thoughts, he kissed her.

He didn't grab her or pull her closer. He just leaned forward and pressed his lips onto hers, and she let him. For single, long moment she let it sink in before finally placing a hand on his shoulder to gently push him away. He didn't resist or try to kiss her again. He released her hand, and waited.  
>Veria backed away a few steps, avoiding his gaze. Without saying anything, she turned and walked away.<p>

She did not sense him following her, and was sure she was alone when she passed through the city gates. She kept walking past the midday crowd, past the graveyard and into the abandoned back streets. She didn't feel like going back to the Cistern. She didn't feel like doing anything, so she sunk to the ground and sat against the outer city wall. Veria sat in silence for a long moment, trying to gather her thoughts. She felt tired; it was just her cold getting to her, she thought. But something inside of her felt calm; a kind of calm she hadn't known in a long time. What was it, she wondered.

Just then, a door creaked loudly open nearby. Veria snapped out of her reverie and pressed into the stone wall. She spotted Mercer coming from one of the homes nearby and groaned inwardly. She did not want to deal with him, so she melted into the shadow of the wall and waited for him to leave. He didn't see her as he glanced around the area. Veria wondered why he was worried about being watched. When he saw no one, he turned and locked the door behind him. Veria watched him go, walking determinedly in the direction of the graveyard, his eyes occasionally darting side to side. Veria's eyes narrowed. _He's hiding something,_ she thought.

It was surely one of the worst things she could do, but she couldn't help but feel that she needed to break into the guildmaster's house. She paced back and forth in front the back gate, staring at the home._ Such a large house_, she thought. It was one of the biggest in the city, surpassed only by the Blackbriar manor. _What could he need such a large home for_, she wondered. _He's hardly ever there._

Without another thought she climbed over the fence and slid to the door. She listened closely; no one was inside. She was about to pick the lock when she suddenly thought better of it; Mercer was likely the type to have traps ready for foolish thieves. She pocketed her lock picks and slid into the shadow of the house. After some searching, she found a window she could open that was out of plain sight. Some fidgeting later, Veria slipped into the house and shut the window behind her.

The interior of Mercer's home was cold and dark. He clearly didn't spend much time there. _What is it for, then?_ Veria persisted. After confirming that no one else was in the house with her, and there were no more traps waiting to be sprung, she searched. The upper level and main floor were fairly normal. There were plenty of minor loot stashes that she knew better than to touch, but otherwise nothing out of the ordinary. When she went to unlock the basement, she paused. A long chest had been placed right next to the trap door leading down. It looked as if it had been recently moved there, as if Mercer had placed it there temporarily.

She picked the lock easily despite its masterful craftsmanship. Inside was a plain scabbard wrapped in cloth. She unwrapped it to find a plain sheath, but the hilt of the sword it held glimmered. Taking the weapon in her hands for a better look, she gently unsheathed the sword.  
>It was and Elvish glass blade in her hands. The sword caught what little light there was in the room and shattered it across its visage like starlight. The craftsmanship was unlike anything she'd ever seen. She could feel waves of icy air emanating from the blade, and occasionally a stray snowflake would appear and drift to the ground; it was enchanted.<br>_This blade,_ she thought. _Could it be Chilldrend?"_


End file.
